The White Veil
by AceMate
Summary: Josephine, Joker's daughter, has pursued her father's goal of gaining control of the city and becoming his heir. As she breaches adulthood, she finds herself attracted to her friend and colleague, Dr. Jonathan Crane. But will it cost her everything?
1. Tainted Nature

**Alright, here's the first chapter of my series. So far, the beginning will give some background on Josephine before heading toward her relationship with Jonathan. Be patient my dears, all will reveal itself.**

**Disclaimer: I own no DC characters. The only characters I own are Josephine and Jack. **

She felt herself gliding over the street, legs straddling the pavement in a rapid tempo. The speed needed to escape her foes was one that took some time to work up. It was not that she wasn't use to running. No. Everyday was a new workout whether by choice, job, or involuntary exercise. There was always time for running in her schedule.

Josephine did not expect any different from anybody else in her situation. She didn't have a lot of association with the outside society other than what she saw while roaming the streets in disguise or peering at the skeptical doctors from behind bars. There was plenty to learn.

Josephine had a dark gift. She was the unnatural daughter of an evil man. One day, she was assured that she would be the sole heir of that man. That sole opportunity came with a price. Being the daughter of the Clown Prince of Crime came with a list of derogatory crimes against her and people who regarded her as the bane of Gotham's Underworld. Lower criminals slunk away into the shadows when she was near. Henchmen took up with the Mafia for protection. Families of Joker's victims hired out assassins and the Mafia to get rid of her. They misunderstood her. By a long shot.

The petty criminals didn't understand. The Rouges Gallery embraced her. They were her family. They protected her. She was as much their child as the biological parents. They taught her everything. She could defend herself as well as the League of Shadows. Her knowledge grew under their tutelage and she had an appetite for books and blood. Her manners could be polite or savage. Lofty or equal. She considered few her equal and never was it a henchman or lower drooling inmate at the infamous Arkham Asylum. She was not to be reckoned with, ever. Even in her younger years she was something of a spitfire. Her nature had little changed in the years that had passed.

There were times. When she was younger, there was a time when she was taken from her home. Her parents went to Arkham, but she went to another form of prison. A couple from Gotham's elite decided to take her in as a foster child. The doctors were pleased, but she knew the truth. Her assumption was realized when they arrived at their manor. She found herself tormented, locked in a closet, alone. They wouldn't allow her any special privileges they had promised the doctors. They said that as long as she behaved herself and had no mad wanderings or tantrums, that they would feed and clothe her as their own child. This sham didn't pass her young senses. The wife would always stare at her as if she were a creature, an unnatural being born from an unholy union, a monster from a lagoon. She hated her. More than that, she had no feeling toward the child.

Josephine stayed with them for a couple of weeks. She repressed those urges, the gorging, bloody thirsting itches to claw and kill her benefactors, should they be called that at all. She played the role of a sweet child, an innocent, a normal girl. She behaved in the most satisfied and applicable manner with the dolls they gave to her.

She despised it the full allotment.

Josephine hummed to herself. Perhaps it was a trifle too loud, because Mr. Howard (her benefactor), marched upstairs, took hold of her hair, which was long at the time, hating scissors, and threw her into the closet. Content with his punishment, Mr. Howard removed him from the house and him and his wife went out to dinner.

Unbeknownst to them, Josephine knew a great deal about escapes. At the ripe age of six, her cunning methods of escapes were well beyond a magician's way to trick death. She found a screw driver and cut away at the lock in the doorknob until it sprung open. She crawled out quietly to avoid the servants. On hands and knees, she waded into her room where she hid a steak knife and a lighter. She untwisted the doll's head to find the mechanical device and divulged the slender silver dagger from a large teddy bear rewarded to her for not screaming and bleeding all over Mrs. Howard's nice hardwood floors when Mr. Howard had taken off his belt and beat her until she saw stars.

She clutched the cool metal with a fair skinned unblemished hand. A slim crimson stripe appeared when she removed her little palm from its unforgiving edge. Her eyes danced at the injured hand. Pounding began in her ears, her breath caught, and a thin layer of sweat sheathed her fair pearl skin. Unholy daydreams swam around her little mad mind. The Howard's had no time left. Josephine held up the young wound and ran her tongue along the gored place. The metallic taste was swished around the tiny baby teeth, staining them copper.

Tire squeals broke the deadly silent nursery. The motor purred as it lunged into the parking garage beside the manor house. The flies entered the web. Even larger flies cannot escape the strong binding web of a petite spider.

Josephine's head spun round as the loud clang of the double doors downstairs shut abruptly. Green eyes flickered in all directions, torrent thoughts collecting together. Her little mad brain seized the focus and chance. Standing up with her utensils, the little warrior walked toward the door. Her injured palm smacked the pearl door to the nursery. Blood violated the surface. Her hand slid down lowly until it was back at her side. She passed the now present crimson stripe on her room.

As she exited her room, she strolled dazed, pressing her bare feet onto the wood. Her weight shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, making her appear to be wobbling unsteadily. To her left were the stair guards that ran along the walkway until the end of the upstairs hallway where the stairway opening stood off to the left. She continued her walk until she reached the opening. She stood in her white lace dress at the top. Waiting. The flies will come.

Footsteps echoed about until a maid walked around the corner downstairs to go up. She pitter pattered up the flight, her gaze remaining on the white stairway. She did not raise her head until seven steps from the top. She looked inquisitively at the girl.

"Hello, what are you doing out here? I though Master Howard put you away-" Her plain brown eyes widened as she saw the child remove a knife from behind. She backed down a step and turned to flee. "Master! She's got a-"

The knife was swift and silent as Josephine lunged over the last few steps and ripped into her maid's uniform. The instrument impaled her kidney, blood pouring out as fast as the metal object had entered. The woman did not scream but exhaled a groan that echoed down the hallways. Her shoulders wobbled back and forth, her head hanging like she were to vomit. Josephine hung back at the top of the stairs, avidly gazing at her victim.

A few seconds later, the maid spat up blood. By this time, the Howards both collected at the bottom of the staircase. Their faces were ablaze in horror at the sight of their help, powerlessly spewing blood onto the white marble staircase.

"Should we call the ambulance?" asked Mrs. Howard. She was too terrified to look to her husband. HE gulped loudly. His temper unable to ignite at seeing the helpless human being before him crumble to the floor.

"No, I don't think she needs it now."

Mrs. Howard made a muffled cry or gasp and covered her mouth as the fresh bloody corpse rolled down the stairs, plopping splashes of blood onto each step. At last the maid arrived at the tiled bottom floor. Her face was visible, the eyes still wide with shock. The reflection of the child was still evident in her murky irises.

Mr. Howard tossed his head back at Josephine, who stood aloof at the top. "Demon child!" he screamed. "The police will be on their way! You little bitch!"

Josephine stood unmoving. His words were lost to the wind as she was not listening to him at all. Her thoughts were muddles in a pool of collective madness that brewed into a fine recipe of disaster for her benefactors below. They did not realize it yet but before the police arrived, she would have turned their running, soulful bodies into nothing but cold, bloodless corpses. They would join their maid in happy after life. She smiled at the thought. What a happy thought.

"_This little light of mine,_

_I'm going to let it shine…"_

In the present, she was constantly scanning her area for a perfect hiding place for either her or for the future corpses from the men following her. It was going to be one of those mornings.

She led them down an alleyway. That was the easy part. No doubt they were told by their boss, whether Mafia or another outsider, that they must follow her to no end. She was not surprised. It only made the day go by a little faster.

There was a cluster of damaged goods boxes lying in her wake. They were piled high above her height. It was an easy fix. She jumped, foot landing on one box and springing to a higher level, continuing the effort until she reached the pinnacle, then subsequently sliding down on the either side. A barbwire fence greeted her there. She repeated the same offense and managed to prance over the sharpened edges without so much as a scratch.

There she would wait for her prey.

Sure enough the men all sweaty and angry from the chase shoved the boxes aside, their faces shiny and beaded with sweat. Josephine cracked a grin at them.

Daddy would be pleased today.


	2. Introduction

**Hey guys, I want to thank you for reading this story. So far, I've decided that I will be posting a chapter every week on Saturday evening. So, you readers can always know when to look forward to a new update. **

**I've made it my personal project to finish the stories I've posted here. _White Veil_ will be the first. _Sane Whim_ will be later, possibly after I've posted another story I am working on that I think you guys may enjoy. I know _I'm_ excited about it. But, I wanted to finish up this one because I have been negligent in my account on here and want to apologize. Luckily now I am very much here and will work to please your reading tastes with my stories. I'm glad to be back.**

**Without further ado, I give you the rest of _White Veil._**


	3. A Robbery

**Ugh, life, my darlings, is a chaotic and soul sucking experience. However, I hope to work more on my Fan fiction this month to make you kiddies happy because I have been getting a lot of story alerts in my E-Mail. I graciously thank you nice people for caring about my work enough to alert yourselves about my slow, but well-meaning updates. **

**In all seriousness, thank you. I wouldn't be inspired to finish these works without your interest. **

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO *not too creepy, huh?***

**RXR**

How waywardly the soul is. The physical and the emotional combined into a filter of intense feeling that will utmost define the character of the person who is host to such an amalgamation. Intrepid emotion is one hard to come by in oneself, and harder to domestic if you are not born to it. But what happens if one born with wild tastes, cunning behaviors and fixated desires to the sinister and bloodthirsty did not understand the underlying callings within the soul? Within the body? What if the sexual nature of this person could be indefinite to them and was wholly hidden beneath the surface, until a final moment when the realization effervesces?

One sever could fabricate the bridge between childhood and adulthood…

* * *

><p><em>Crack<em> –there it was again outside. That was the third time it'd happened. It was thrice too many. Normally strange sounds were welcome in the strange night in this strange city –but this time it was a particularly special night, and strange sounds were not to be part of the atmosphere for this watch.

"Someone must be trying to scare us off," said the dark-skinned youth. He was clothed in colored street rags, reminiscent of the circus he once belonged to and the new word he acquired over the past two years. Shiny turquoise tattoos spun a web around his body like some sort of ritualistic code. His long hair was loose and splayed down his back.

"If they are, it's not going to work," said a female voice. A brunette a few feet from him, cloaked in the night. Her clothes darkened her brilliant fair skin, leaving nothing to be assumed as anything more than a stray in the night.

Josephine Quinzel had taken considerable measures around Gotham to acquire such a territory as the one surrounding the building on which she and her two cohorts stood. Even though it was only a block, she didn't feel the need to have to chase off trespasser this evening. Although, she did have a fair idea of the perpetrator and did not want to get into an ordeal with said person. Not when she had plans.

"Wait for my signal before you leave. The Italians are sure to leave tonight in their fine limos and Ferraris. The goods will be there nice and tight. I'll unlock the warehouse and take care of any business that needs taking care of."

The tattooed teenager known as Ink, smiled to him, thinking of the guard's faces as his mistress tore into them. His partner did not smile.

Firetongue, the blonde haired mute stood solemn as he regularly did. He did not often betray emotion unless his eyes gave way a fiery gaze whenever he exerted the power he was born with on unfortunate enemies. His fire breathing was a particular favorite with his mistress.

The docks were quiet. No ship sailed tonight, another detail Josephine minded to. She too leave of her private party and made her way down the wooden boxes stacked beside the hardware building she used as a spy point. The ground was wet from the slimy rain Gotham had been receiving over the last week. It was dreary, fog lifted the night sky and covered the moon. Another small mercy. This had to be clean and precise.

The armory was hidden inside the dock warehouse on Gotham's east side harbor. The Italian mobs loved this particular hide-out due to its convince to their whereabouts and because the fishmongers there were about as corrupt as they were and greedily cleaned out their money.

The Russians were not so lucky. Their supplies were hidden elsewhere, moved somewhere else since the Italians began to eat up Gotham with their poison and weaponry sales to petty gangs. The Moscow crew did not stand a chance. But it was not them that concerned her this evening. It was the Italians and their new guards that intrigued Josephine as she snuck to the front of the building which was not well-lit.

The doors were easy to jimmy into as she stuck a slim metal strand into the lock and flipped it open. The guards were always patrolling the box columns that lined the giant barn like grocery aisles. The boxes were for the most part unmarked, but due to some intelligence picked up from when she hung out in the mob front bars, "red tape" was the key.

She made her way through the piles always checking for a guard before proceeding through. Luckily there was not a lot of light cascading from the outdated light bulbs overhead. Why wasn't she storming in like her normal birthright proclaimed she would do? Tonight there couldn't a lot of commotion. They were packing heat. The guards had the big stuff and if any of that went off, Bats would be here with the Boy Wonder ready to snub the fun.

She waited for three minutes before seeing a guard cross under the lamplight holding his firearm close. His gaze was not fixed as the others and his persona was far younger as well. Most likely he was a cousin of someone looking to break into the mob business and ready to get his hands dirty with accepting a guard job. The weapon was cradles in his arms like a baby. Josephine seized the knife she carried always on her person. Its metal glinted before it was thrust into the boy's heart. Before he could cry out, she stuffed her mouth with her hand. He tried to bite down, but his strength failed him almost as soon as he struck. He struggled little. When she freed her armed hand, she clenched his throat and swiftly ended his life for no other merciful reason than to protect her presence. She heaved the body into a black patch beside a column and continued around until she climbed into one of the columns and spied a patch of boxes with red spot dotted lazily on them. She half smiled. The work was almost done.

Josephine slid down the top shelf and paused when she hit a shadow. A guard would go by every so often. A normal person would wonder about their men behind, but she was far too focused to worry about the two youths getting bored. Anyway, if they wanted to remain in her father's good graces without a bullet in their back, they would wait.

She waited for another brown suited goon to walk by, but she realized this one was much like the previous she encountered. Young, stupidly holding his gun like an inexperienced idiot…scared. Theses were not guards she was used to, and she realized that she had seen this one cross the aisle twice already. How many were there? Not many. Feeling a little disentangled about the guard number and the possibility of a gun war breaking out, she silently took out the guard and placed him in the crevice behind the "red tape" weapon boxes. Whatever guards were left, her boys could take out. There couldn't be more than two or three. Besides, there weren't ready to use a proper gun like that. Their faces would soon be melted and sliced off by her metahuman brood. She couldn't help but relish a small shiver, but they weren't worthy opponents, so she couldn't enjoy it as much as she wished to.

Josephine stuck her thumb and forefinger into her mouth and whistled.

If there were cries from the men about finding the source of the sharp noise in the night, she didn't hear it over the whoosh of fire blowing from Firetongue's lips into an unsuspecting guards face, or the cries of the eagle Ink conjured from his tattoos to dice the men from head to foot. Soon, the relatives wouldn't be able to tell them apart.

As the commotion went on, she ripped open the wooden boxes, dashing the wrapping away with her knife and sorting through the stuffing until the firearms were recovered. She held the bounty her arms and smiled. Behind her, the boys approached heaving with energy left over from the short battle.

"Carry these out with you," she told Ink, gesturing about five boxes worth. "Firetongue, carry a couple arms in the bags. Don't take too many, we don't want them to find their missing property until we've stored them at the hide-out."

She grasped a sack toed to her back and took the arms she recovered from the box and placed them inside careful that they weren't' loaded. As the final piece they were stealing was placed into a respective bag, a cold shadow fell over her. She suppresses an angry chill and she faced the perpetrator.

"It's not nice to sneak up on people," she seethed to the Dark Knight.

"It's not nice to steal."

"No, but when it's from the wrong people, I'd say it's excused."

"Either way, I'm taking you in."

"Nuh uh uh," she wagged her finger humorlessly, not until I've left with my supplies, boys."

Firetongue heaved a breath and a blast of fame shot towards the Dark Knight who dodged it and punched him in the chin, causing him to double over. While he was distracted, Ink conjured a bear like a mountain over the vigilante. It roared and slashed at him nearly catching his cloaked but then charged at him which the Dark night had no choice to dodge. Fire tongue had recovered by this point and was spitting flame again.

Their distraction bought Josephine the time to escape with at least four fire throwers strapped to her back. She wasn't leaving without something. She could have slapped herself. Something was up and she didn't catch it. After her planning, the boys might end up in a place outside of her reach and she couldn't continue with a raid on her own. Her father might not be very understanding this time but all she could do now was get away with the firearms.

She climbed out the warehouse and tore down the alleyway, escaping over a barbed fence and into the gutter land where the poverty stricken families lived. She had not gotten far before a figure pummeled into her. She fell forward; the weapons bounced off the ground and skittered away from her. She recovered and swung around to face the burgundy coated Robin. This one was the rebel of the bunch, dressing differently from head to toe in brown, black and red complete with a hood. She couldn't see his face from beneath it, but her eyes glared at her.

"Well, hello Clown Princess," he sneered. His voice was cold, matching his master's more so than the previous Robin, except for an accent she had tried to place in the past but could only settle for something Greek. "Thievery I see. Naughty, naughty."

"You wouldn't happen to know the time would you? I think its past your bedtime little birdie."

"No, but it's past your parole period." He swiped a punch at her which she dodged and lodged and foot into his thigh. She slid her knife out and tried to plunge it into his arm, but faltered when he unsheathed his own and the metals clashed. The blades scraped one another when they parted and Robin hurled himself at her, ignoring the fact that he once had the element of surprise and blew it. She cartwheel out of his way and kicked him in the chest, punching him back from her to make some space to swipe the weapons. With them on her back again, he grabbed her wrists and dodged her lower body attacks. He tried to pin her arms to hr back but she squirmed out of reach and sliced his wrist, causing blood to squirt out, loosening his grip. She took to running away from the battle, not feeling one bit guilty about her foe.

She heard his footsteps behind her and a voice reach out after him. "Robin, leave her, leave her now. I said no!"

The footsteps didn't stop. She sped up and sought out the area around her, a labyrinth of alleyways leading her deeper and deeper into the problematic areas of Gotham. She reached a dead end and climbed up the dumpsters, ripping her clothing in the process. The rank stench from the trash grease permeated the road. She removed a tiny ball from her pocket, not realizing it had been there all along and threw it into the dumpster. Almost as soon as it had gone in, the trash dump exploded sending a foul odor even deeper into the labyrinth along with the Brat Boy.

Josephine remained only for a second to watch the trash go up in flames, and then turned to gallop to her Haha-cienda. Mission accomplished.

4


	4. A Lounge of Possibilities

**I meant to mention that Damian Wayne is the Robin in this story. I thought it would be proper since the timeline should match up since about this time he and Josephine are roughly eighteen. I also wanted to claim my ownership over Ink and Firetongue. They are my creation and would like the public to know.**

**You guys, I appreciate your interest in the story, but I would really like to have a couple of reviews so that I know what you think: questions, comments or concerns are welcome, but no flames. They're annoying and make people dislike you. Don't be mean. You guys aren't mean people. You're good people; I mean, you're nice enough to read this chapter, right? Of course. **

**Without further ado, here is the fourth chapter…**

**P.S. Little bit of gore at the beginning. Skip it if you don't care for blood and the like….**

_Raise arm. Strike. Blood. Raise arm. Strike. Blood. Dead. Dodge. Raise arm. Strike more blood. Strike. Blood. Death. Strike Blood. Dodge. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. _

Josephine's knife glinted from an invisible light as she wielded it against her opponents. They had no chance to dodge her attacks as she masked herself in the shadows of the abandoned toy factory. They were in what would be called the "living room" of her current dwelling. However the irony of its name would soon be fulfilled.

She struck another henchman. Down he fell. She sank into the shadows once more. Stealth recently had been a proper trade to learn in her way of Gotham. Her eyes and ears had been useful to her father as she resembled a bit more of citizen in her disguise than he ever could. Green hair did not exactly wear well during the business hours of industrial Gotham.

The other's surprised faces were progressively shifted to anger as they shouted obscurities into the blackness. This did not bother her. She was used to this ritual. When she had returned to the factory that evening after her failure, she received a note from her father with nothing else on it but its scrawled message, _Kill them._

Josephine happily obliged when it was time to recycle the failed henchmen. Armed with her anger and shame from her previous encounter with the bat, she raised pointed the knife at her next target, and leapt from the shadows once more. The dagger pierced his heart, and he had little time to recover before she had climbed onto his back and slit his throat. With a loud gurgle, he sank to the floor in a pool of blood.

And then there were two. By this time, the finalists in her previous slaughters would team together against her with expression of shock and even sometimes hurt streaked on their faces. All she could do was smirk. _They brought it on themselves. Deliver them from their own mistakes. _

She lifted the knife and charged, sliding out of the way of a punch and stabbing him in the spinal cord. The other, tried to grab her arm, but failed as she also cart wheeled out of reach and threw a fatal blow. The two joined their comrades in the red sea.

The Clown Princess sheathed her knife and stared down at her feet, which had been soaked a rust color. Her reflection shone, the color of her countenance drowned in the crimson, except for her skin's porcelain shade.

* * *

><p>The Batcave was filled in Arabic swearing and announcements of imminent revenge. As Damian undressed himself, he violently threw his uniform dangerously near the garbage. He had never been so angry. He was close this time. So close. He wanted to get her. Wanted to throw her in that appalling establishment whose name carried with it a sick and demonic past. For years, he wanted this and whenever they did accomplish this byzantine task, she would escape.<p>

_If the League of Assassins dealt in Gotham, we would not have to reproof any sort of problem ever again,_ he reminisced over his background and training.

He stared towards the mainframe where Bruce Wayne was seated and searching for whereabouts of the Joker. This sort of thing, this _whole justice_ his father claimed was a strange lie to him. No murder, only justice. He was not even allowed to take an eye for an eye to punish his enemies, or even a hand. Death was most certainly earned by most, especially that cheating devil, The Joker and his spawn.

He changed into civilian clothes, the fabric's scent still strange to him even after nearly six years getting used to his new life in Gotham. There had been so many changes. Learning about his father, his father's death, training with Grayson, then the reappearance of Bruce…it was topsy-turvy. There had been a stronger flood of emotions than he expected.

Bruce typed loudly as rapid pace.

Damian was still understanding this man called father. After not having one and being content with that, he still felt tossed through a loop every time his father made decisions for him: Most about what to do with criminals. It was not as he expected, or dreamed of when he learned his father was Bruce Wayne. The man in his image was ruthless and sought the answers, a man of vengeance. This man was him.

For his first two years in Gotham, he trained with Grayson. His previous master had been a bit lighthearted and annoying for Damian's like at first. But he had come to respect him. Truly, he was a student of Bruce Wayne. When Damian dawned the Robin cape, he felt worthy of it.

But since then Grayson had returned to Blüdhaven in his earlier presence as Nightwing.

Tim Drake was gone to university elsewhere as Red Robin.

Things were constantly changing.

He approached the mainframe to find a mug shot of Josephine Quinzel taken from two angles holding her Arkham number.

_Bitch_, he thought to himself.

"We took in two of her cohorts to Blackgate and the majority of the armory seems to be still in place. I called Commissioner Gordon. He and his police squad are inspecting it for traces of which mob it belongs to."

"And Quinzel?" He asked sourly.

"Gone, but I can't find a trace of her. Most likely she is at one of the old hideouts. She only took two guns with her. Right now, all we can do is wait for her first move."

"Wait? You know where she is. There's obviously something we can do. We can go out and drag her back to that asylum where she belongs. If we were in the League, we-"

"We are _not_ in the League of Shadows, Damian. I never was. I think it will be best if you drop your allegiance to that organization. Remember, _you_ made the choice to stay and serve under me."

"Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe I belonged there more than Gotham."

Here was the argument again. Tongues lashing at each other trying to see which hurts the other worse. It was been especially tense lately. Emotions kept on end now that they were the only two left in the Batcave. Drake had left. Gone somewhere he could establish himself as the first Robin had, except he would be the Red Robin.

Before Damian could further repudiate the family title, Alfred entered the black abyss. Tall, distinguished, and a bit gray, he stood stately until the two recognized his presence.

"Master Bruce," he began, "I hate to interrupt sir," he gave Damian a look of despair, "but I must remind you that the musical arrangements need to be finished for the ball."

"Ball, Alfred?"

"The Masque Ball, sir? You have forgotten it haven't you? Should I better cancel it?"

"No," the Dark Knight tore off his cowl and placed it on a table nearby. The poor lighting revealed Bruce Wayne, his face orange beneath the lighting. "I haven't forgotten it. Keep it on schedule. Batman may have duties, but so does Bruce Wayne. Besides, we need to encourage the patrons to give to the charity."

He turned to leave the Bat Cave, but Damian followed him. He clenched his fists, sticking to his side as his best.

"And you," Bruce wheeled on his son, "We're not finished yet."

* * *

><p>Josephine's murdering tirade brought on an adrenaline that could not be quenched with sleep. It left her with a puckish spirit, not detained by anything but a short night on the town, and perhaps, a chance meeting.<p>

The Iceberg Lounge was a well-known sweet spot for the elite during the day.

At night, the story was very well reversed.

It was still a hot spot for the elite, but the opposite side of the fence arrived to take over. Yes, villains, super-villains, small rogues, and sometimes highly paid henchmen made appearance at the extravagant venue. They drank their sorrows away along with their ill-earned adventures with a flying rodent. Yes, the bartenders did not get paid well enough to hear the stories over and over again.

"I almost got 'em," they always seemed to say. The good bartender was pleasant, of course he was paid to be, and eagerly took the money and refilled their drinks until they were portly intoxicated in which they would start a fight and be thrown from the establishment. Mr. Cobblepot, better known as the Penguin, would warn them never to return on the grounds of being barred. However, when the next moon rose, all was forgotten and all were engaged in the same cycle.

Josephine entered the double doors of the facility without much trouble. Penguin's associates knew her by face and knew better than to stand in the way. Even if she was only eighteen.

"Ah Josephine," greeted the Penguin once she'd settled into a table alone.

"Mr. Cobblepot," she replied cordially. She was never rude to him. He liked her well enough and did not prejudice against her for being the mad ass clown's daughter.

"You're here later than usual. No one else with you?"

"No one this evening."

She picked up a menu, eying nothing in particular. She was merely passing the time whilst a nosy couple passed them, obviously disgusted with her presence. The Penguin's eye passed over them with a fake entrepreneur smile.

Once they passed, she leaned in toward him. He leaned in turn, desperate to hear some gossip on the slow night. It had not been a proud couple of weeks for thievery for the Emperor Penguin.

"I wonder if Ichabod is here," she said softly, "if so, could you tell him that Katrina is here for him?"

The Penguin relaxed, understanding her completely. "Very well, I shall deliver the message immediately. May I offer you something while you wait? We have some excellent vodka mixes tonight, especially since our best bartender has returned."

"Jean Parie is here again?"

"Yes, fortunately the court found my best investment not guilty in that ill-fated embezzlement case with Wayne Enterprises."

"A toast to that." She smiled. "But, I don't have a glass."

"My apologies. The best wine for you, my dear."

Josephine settled into her chair a bit more. Being a criminal did pay off for well-mannered underage youths with a taste for fine wine.

A scantily clad waitress brought her the fine crystal. She sipped, savoring the taste. It was sweet, red wine. Not too sweet, bitter, but altogether delectable. She seized a few sips more whilst she watched the crowds around her.

The lounge was unusually empty. Very quiet. Slow nights were uncommon but not completely irrelevant. Something must have happened to brush up the usual crowds.

Josephine seized more of the addictive liquid. The warmth spread throughout her body and she felt herself relax more. Her sore spots from earlier were slowly beginning to drift away into a bad memory.

Soon, the Penguin returned with a small smile on his face. "Mr. Ichabod is here to see you."

"Excellent." She set the crystal on the white clothed table. She stood and followed him down to the lower level where the bar stood near the seal attraction. "Cobblepot, what's going on here? Usually there are loads of people by this hour. Have I scared them all off?"

"No, the Bat was seen around here. As usual the crowds have vanished too. If I get my hands on that rodent, I'll ring him for every cent he's cost my business."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. A little printed birdie told me that this was the finest establishment in Gotham."

As he walked, the Penguin preened at the compliment. She did know how to smooth his feathers.

Dr. Jonathan Crane sat in his usual spot. Straight middle. Aware of the people around and sipping on a nice Chardonnay.

"Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot," Josephine addressed, bowing slightly to him as he wandered to other guests.

"Very well, yes, very well," still under the drug of her influential words.

"Professor," she began.

"Miss Von Tassel, I presume," he said, still not looking at her. When he turned, his eyes were void of amusement. Instead, the bottle glazed over the intelligent blue eyes. "Must we still use these codes?"

"For me, yes. It is important. We don't want the wrong ears listening in on the conversation, yes."

"Of course."

"Rough night, sir?" She took the vacant seat next to him.

"Nightwing,"he grunted.

"Back from Blüdhaven, I see," she stated as a matter of fact. "The holidays brought him, certainly. The experiments are they-"

"No, I managed to salvage some. He could not destroy the entire toxin. We will have to make more for the next experiments." He took another drink.

"He did not harm you then?"

"No, I managed to escape. I used some of the vanishing smoke you sometimes use. There was a pellet on hand." His lip turned up in a shadow of a smirk. Josephine relaxed.

"When is a good time for me to assist you?"

"Tomorrow will be fine. We will work in the day, so that the bat does not catch us."

"Speaking of the bat," she rubbed her shoulder, where is started to ache again.

"You had a run in with him?" His voice was well controlled but there was a hint of concern there.

"Yes," she was going to say more, but the Professor was not exactly a favorite of her father's. He was not allowed to know his plans, ever. Nor did the Joker know about her tirades with the Scarecrow…

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, some bruises and scrapes but I'll be fine to work tomorrow. Thank you for your concern." She rubbed her injured shoulder self-consciously. She did not know why but she found his eyes still glued to the spot. His hand flickered toward her but she thought she might have been wrong; it was probably a trick of the light or alcohol.

"Professor, I think its best that I go home if we are to meet early tomorrow. What time did you say would be best?"

He paused to think. "Noon. Not too early, but plenty of daylight to be safe."

"You won't let the mob get anywhere near the hideout will you?"

"My dear, you always underestimate my abilities. I can take care of myself without you constant protection." He brought the drink to his lips, sipping so softly before setting it back down, a glint in his eye.

Josephine smiled. "I'm glad you find my services so rewarding, doctor, and that I'm not useless as I sometimes feel I am to your impeccable mind."

His look became serious. "You should never think that. Your services are very much appreciated, as always. I may never say so, but these days I don't think I could do this without you."

"Professor, please don't say that. I'm an assistant. You're the planner. The engineer. The _Master_ of Fear. There is no limit to your abilities. The toxin is finally being strong enough to use in a more advantageous situation. We only have to wait a little longer. You will be rewarded for what you do." She paused, unable to meet his gaze. "But I am grateful for your faith in me. You do not know how much that does mean to me."

"Your talents have not been appreciated as of late, I see. But, here is not the place to discuss that. We will reconvene at a more private location tomorrow. I must bid you farewell, my dear."

He stood, leaving the thousand colored crystal on the bar. She stood as well. He offered his hand. She took it. He held it instead of shaking it. For only a moment, then the contact broke. He turned to walk back to his lonely warehouse near the Narrows. And she, to her factory and The Joker.


	5. The Importance of Being Earnest

**Readers, I love thee. Onto more Scarecrow/Josephine interaction!**

There was a matter of seconds one had to wait before approaching a bus in Gotham. Many crammed onto it in hopes of finding that last gum spat on, dingy, sloppy, last seat. Pregnant women suffered. Gotham was not the town for chivalry. Tough luck for bringing in new life. No one cared. Life was born and taken away just as easily. It was ridiculous.

Josephine found herself caring less about the growing population. Even if she did care, she was taking out part of it. It was Darwinism if she cared. Survival of the fittest. Henchmen do badly, they die. Henchmen do well, they live another day. Good for them.

Her sunglasses slid down slightly as she exited the stop near the Narrows. She pushed them back, hiding her bright green eyes. She wore her casual clothes –very pedestrian –very _normal_. Her hair blew back from the wind. The locks flew over her shoulders and rested down her back.

There wasn't something to be worried about. It felt nice. To be somewhere without thinking you're going to be killed. Somehow being in the crowds did that. Of course, there was the occasional pickpocket. She had probably taught them a thing or two but not enough for them to beat _her_.

The Narrows were ahead.

Around her arm was a tote bag with some food supplies for the professor since she knew for a fact he did not keep a spare amount of anything to eat. Every once in a while when she visited him, she would cook a hot meal for his enjoyment. He rarely commented on it, but it was nice all the same to know that those few pounds he gained on his gangly form were courtesy of her.

There was a small marketplace near the bad residency area. It was a bohemian place she stopped for now and again. Her clothing choice was not too out of the ordinary for this crowd. She wore a scarf from a thrift store, and jeans to match. Her wrists jangled with ringlets. Chocolate locks fell forward as she picked up some merchandise. The cloth was smooth and soft, something Professor Crane might like to try, something easy to steal if the shopkeeper weren't standing over her.

Someone bumped her.

She whipped around to see who it was but no one was in sight. She turned back to the clothing but shrugged it off. Not worth the trouble.

She entered the Narrows.

Checking her back, she entered though the chain fence where the supposedly abandoned apartment was ahead. She climbed up the emergency escape and into the apartment.

* * *

><p>Damian took a walk.<p>

He only did this when another moment in the stormy house was too much to take. He could not stand being there sometimes. Even if it was his choice, his father could not always be right.

He was dressed in his casual attire: wind jacket, long sleeve shirt, pants, and shades: The model of the American teenager.

He decided to jog around the grimier parts of the city, away from the bourgeoisie. He had seen and heard enough of the elite. They annoyed him past all elements. The hoity-toity crowds were high in authority because of their riches and their worthiness of social qualities. These attributes that defined these people were only structured to fit the higher class. In Arabia, he was high class. He was born of the great Al Ghul line. The Blood of the Demon was his by birthright. He was a trained warrior, an assassin, someone of importance. It meant something.

Here he was as Bruce Wayne's son.

It meant something else. He was the playboy's son. He was supposedly pampered without a care. They treated him as such: they treated him as one of _them_.

He walked where few of the elite walked. The Narrows were an interest to him. Ugly and decrepit, yes, but interesting. Strange people would crowd around the marketplace, looking for low price goods for small homes they could barely afford. Most dressed in poor clothing.

One person stood out.

She wore a bit nicer clothing: jeans, shirt, coat…some patches were sewn in them but she looked taken care of. Her stature was unusually tall for the others in the crowd, although she may have only been about five eight. She looked through some clothing, although didn't seem too interested in it.

He felt a tug when he gazed on her.

There was something about her. Something was different. As if she wasn't supposed to be there.

He walked closer to get a closer look. He peered at her visage but it was turned and her glasses hide part of her face. He would have seen her if a shopkeeper hasn't knocked into him, startling those around him. His instincts told him to leave immediately, or else cause a fuss.

As he made his departure, he bumped into the girl.

But as she turned to see him, he was already climbing a railing.

* * *

><p>As Josephine entered the apartment, the clock read eleven fifteen. She was early. Perfect.<p>

She set down the supplies she had gathered from the marketplace and set to work cooking lunch. Tomato soup was on the menu today. She doubted the good doctor would have had a good hot meal since she last came. It was only noodles with him. Not even good noodles, Ramen noodles, found cheap. She sometimes wondered if he knew that he could just steal some good food instead of finding measly scraps. He was, after all, a brilliant man.

With the pot hot with tomato sauce and milk, she set out to find him. The kitchen was first in the apartment. Then the living area sat undisturbed. There were three bedrooms. One of which was his, and another used for a small office. Downstairs was the basement, aka the lab. She checked in the office first and found him asleep again the desk.

Upon seeing his stance, she realized he must have gotten home late in the morning and collapsed on the chair and table. His breathing was heavy, but he did not snore. Nor, did he drool or do anything seen as disgusting in his sleep. He was soundly unconscious. Josephine returned to the kitchen.

She came back with a steaming bowl of soup and set it on the desk. She knelt down and peered into his quiet face. Even in his sleep, he did not look peaceful. His brow was furrowed in deep thought. His mouth was fixed in a frown. Auburn hair laid a mess. Carefully, she pressed two fingers against his neck.

He awoke suddenly. His head twitched into consciousness, eyes blinking as his fingers found and rubbed them.

"What are you doing," he said.

"Checking for a pulse." She smiled.

The bowl moved toward him.

"I made you something to eat. I know you're probably hungry. You never eat anything."

He gave her a long look. It was not an unusual comment. Everyone said that to him: Rouges, doctors, even the victims he sometimes tested his chemicals on. His frailty was always the subject of conversation. What he did not what to hear was his dietary habits from his assistant.

"Thank you for your input," he said, picking up a spoon and began ladling the red liquid. He slapped it back onto the table when his tongue realized the temperature.

"It's hot."

"I realize that now," he barked.

"Hold on, I'll get something to clean that up." She went from the room and came back with a roll of paper towels. "Here," she handed him one.

He said nothing and mopped up the small mess.

"When will we start today?"

"As I recall from this morning, very _early_ this morning, I said noon. This feels much earlier."

"It's eleven thirty."

"And you wake me early to be scalded with your food?"

"If you don't want my cooking, just say so. You don't have to insult me. Its soup; you should know the temperature. Besides, I was only trying to be nice."

He ignored this and lifted the spoon, blowing on it first before placed it in his mouth. He let it sit for a moment before swallowing. It _was_ nice to have some good food here. He did not say this.

Josephine picked up on it and dropped the conversation as he ate in peace. She left and came back with her own bowl and joined him. They remained in silence until he had finished with her only a few mouthfuls left.

"How much exactly did Nightwing confiscate?"

He placed the bowl away.

"About two thirds of it."

"We needed those two thirds. The supplies don't come cheap anymore, nor are they easy to steal."

"The fear toxin will be made again. I have some stored here for that occasion. However, it is not enough to sustain that amount. For this reason, I mapped out possible points in the city where there may be supplies. I will need you to fetch these for me."

Fetch. Josephine did not like the word. She was not a dog.

"And how exactly should I get these supplies? I am supposing that their sources will need either underground seizure or smooth talk from my position. What will it be?"

He leaned in his chair, not looking at her, brows furrowed, mouth frowning. The idea flickered behind his eyes like a candle.

"Two chemicals are needed for this that I myself cannot obtain through bribery from a foreign market. I need you to get these." He paused, not because it was difficult for him to tell her, but he wanted to make a dramatic point of how urgently he needed these. She needed to pay attention. "One –is with Poison Ivy."

Josephine shuddered noticeably. Aunt Ivy. She was afraid of that. Poison Ivy had been a close relative all her life. Obtaining a plant from her would feel almost like rape. What with her not visiting often and what happened to her mother…her surrogate favorite may not be enough to assuage her to comply.

"You resist."

"No, I- "

What did she think? Would she do it? Could she do it? She did not want to disappoint. She had on other occasions and did not want this to be another of them.

"State what you need." Her eyes stared defiance.

Dr. Crane stared back with an amused expression. His little protégée was rebellious. He admitted he enjoyed seeing her riled at something he said. He had witnessed her anger elsewhere but she was growing more and more with each passing year. It was…_different_. It was…shall he say? _Delightful_.

"It is a plant called Solanaceae. You remember?"

She nodded diplomatically. She knew the physique. "Nightshade."

"It's poisonous properties are vital to the toxin's qualities. It is what makes the user hallucinate." He drew closer to her. "I need this plant, Josephine."

She did not draw back. His closeness was something she did not expect, nor encourage. But found it not unwanted. She shivered slightly. She understood what he asked. Why he asked. She was the only person who could do it. She was the only person he could trust to do it.

"And the other ingredient?"

"Falcone."

Josephine exhaled loudly. Her breath caught. She was about to say yes when an inkling intruded her thought process. The mafia. The boy. One she killed. The youth inside. That one boy.

Then it hit her.

_He was a…a...oh no..._

That mafia. They knew her. Oh, they knew her well. What she did. Once they found out. Oh, they knew now, they knew…

"Are you insane…" she breathed.

"The public," he grimaced.

"You don't understand…they will _kill_ me…"

"I thought the clown's daughter was unstoppable. Powerful. _Fearless_…."

"There is a line. I crossed that line last night." She did not go further. She could not. It would be betraying her father.

"You must get your priorities in line, Josephine. You need to choose the one you have the most loyalty to. Your father endangers you. Whether or not you allow that is your decision but do not let him do it. Do you understand me?"

He did not speak with fervor. He did not speak with any tone of love or admiration. He merely said these words as if he were teaching a seminar in his old classroom at Gotham University.

Josephine shook her head, pulling her knees to her chin. I was child-like, she admitted, but sometimes it helped.

"I- They will kill me. They will if they decide to. After what I did…they will."

Professor Crane tapped his fingers on the oak. He did not speak for several minutes. She could merely sit and watch him, but turned away in disgrace.

"Very well. I will have one of the henchmen go in."

"…you-?"

"You are not obviously up to the task for reasons you won't explain. Fine. We all have our secrets. You won't have to go in there. However, the deal I will make is this: You will tell me what happened that makes you so afraid of them."

Josephine knew this was a deal with the devil. In telling him the secret, she would have to tell him her father's plan. Total betrayal. It was the price for her life.

"Professor what you ask is-"

"Fair."

She knew she could not dissuade him from it. She must make up her mind.


	6. A Jack of the Trade

**Merry Christmas! **

**Oh, beautiful readers. You are awesome. Nog it up and enjoy some Christmas treats. The holidays are not a season known for weight loss, so why challenge the statistics?**

She made the decision, knowing full well what the consequences might bring.

"I choose to tell you."

The professor leaned back in his chair. A nod of approval one might see from a psychiatrist.

"Very well. I am curious to know what the great Josephine is so afraid of."

"It was last night."

"Wherever you were, performing…should we say…less than moral operations for your father's campaign? Am I right?"

"No less than your own agenda, professor," she spat. She did not care to speak cruelly to him but sometimes he provoked her. As right as he was, he had no right to point out her father's flaws.

"What did you do?"

"The boy who was there, learning the ropes. He…was Falcone's grandson. His only grandchild. I know this because I've seen him on the news." _And from descriptions from the Russians when I spy on them,_ but that was secret. "I feel guilt. For the first time, I realize that my mistakes, my actions have a result in another way."

"You feel sorry for a crime family?"

"I feel sorry for his mother."

She did not meet his gaze. He knew. He knew she spoke of her mother. There was no denying it. How she felt, the sorrow. What she had done.

"I can't always control it."

His mind perked.

"I can't always control the urge to do something to someone. That's why my mother is there, in that bed, not waking. That's why she's not with me right now. I can't control myself anymore. There is always that feeling of being empowered when you hurt someone. That sadism is addictive, like a prescription for adrenaline. A high I…can't live without."

She nestled her head on her knees, looking away from him. Her fingernails dig into her calves. She winced when the tenderness was brushed. They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. Minutes ticked by with professor and student saying absolutely nothing and in the same position. Josephine peeked out from her position to see him, but his face was hidden by the hand it rested on.

"Professor," she broke in.

He removed the hand from his cheek, sliding it to cover his mouth. His face in her direction. An eyebrow rose.

"I'm...not sure why I'm telling you all this, but I feel like it helps. You don't judge me. But you must know that whatever had been said must remain confidential. If my father ever knew," she inhaled sharply.

"Of course." The light covered his eyes, transforming his glasses into white rectangles.

"He might hurt–" she stopped. Her emotions were running away from her again. "Suddenly…I don't feel like mixing chemicals too much at the moment." Her hands pushed her knees away leaving a large gap between them and her chest. She breathed deeply, trying to calm her emotions. There was stinging behind her eyes that she did not wish her mentor to see. There was a boundary crossed this morning but there was still so much separation between the two. That was a level she did not wish to encroach just yet.

"You wish to leave?" He asked in his monotone voice. Its affect was something Josephine did not expect. She was irritated. He was not cross, nor did she want him to be, but he wasn't, and that made him angry.

"No," she did not know how to say it, "I don't…I want to stay here." She paused and stared at him. "I don't feel like going back to my father."

"Do you wish to talk about the factor you are ignoring, or casting away?"

"No, I don't. There's nothing to discuss."

"I know what you think but you must leave it be. You made a choice today. You also made one long ago. What you've done since then has only reflected your loyalty to me. No matter how terrible you may feel about the consequences, you need to understand that. It did not go unrewarded."

"My mother didn't deserve what happened…the fear gas…it was a mistake…a terrible mistake…I never should have done that. I should have controlled it. You see!_ I should have controlled it!"_

Josephine banged her fist on the fragile desk. The bolts rattled. The wood gave way slightly; a crack might have gone through. She removed her hand as if in flames and muttered an apology.

"It is fine, but you must channel your anger. Channel it against those you hate the most. That is what makes the pain go away."

Josephine's ears perked.

"Who do you mean?"

She swore there was that hint of animosity towards a certain clown, one that by nature, she could not allow harm to.

"…the bat…we will hunt the bat."

"But we don't have enough toxins to attack anywhere–"

"–did I say we were to attack tonight?"

She shook her head.

"No, but we are to attack sometime within the week at most. There will be our chance to strike strongly. Getting rid of the bat is always a priority. The brat next and then we will be free to do as we please."

_He said 'we' instead of 'I.' _

"What is it you play at, professor?"

"I play to win, my little protégée. I play to win." Dr. Crane stood abruptly. The chair creaked as it slid across the metal floor. "I will wait to test the next batch. He will be the first to scream from my toxins."

Josephine stood as well. She smiled grimly. Her eyes did not match her mentor's but he was about a foot taller than her. She was already tall for her age.

"You may stay here, but I will start working immediately. If you feel like coming down to help me, you may. But I don't expect intrusions otherwise."

He left the room. Josephine felt like wandering into the living room for something to read, but was blocked at the office door by the professor. He hung over her for a second before settling her eyes to hers. In the poor light, the glare did not block her view of his brown eyes.

"Thank you for the food. It was…very good."

"Oh, um, thank you, professor."

The awkward exchange hung over them until he turned on his heel and left. Josephine had a little spark back in her heart once he had vanished downstairs. She shook her head while walking to the little bookshelf.

"If only you could see sometimes, professor, if only you could see…"

* * *

><p>Damian jogged the rest of the way home to Wayne Manor. Hours after his sighting, he went into the study to find his father sitting and finding instructions for the night's scouting.<p>

"See anything interesting?"

"No, but you should have been here earlier instead of loitering around the city. I have information to review with you."

"I know, but I've been scouting on my own, picking up trails to lead to dat little bitch."

He clapped his hands on the chair nearest him.

"_Josephine Quinzel_ will most likely not show up on the radar for the next couple of weeks."

"I know, but I think I saw something down in de Narrows."

"There is always something to see down there."

"No," his husky middle eastern voice lowered. "I might have seen her down there, with de rest of de sludge."

"Where?"

"Down near where the residencies begin."

"Did you see what she was doing, exactly?"

"No, but-"

Bruce Wayne gave him a hard look. "We are already caught in a mess at the moment. Poison Ivy has planted some kind of chemical in the Ace Chemical Factory and we don't know what the contents are. I need you to see to it that the chemicals are scanned and brought in. We need to stop her _now_."

"But she's not-"

"Damian, Poison Ivy is our main priority at the moment. You need to get your head on straight."

Upon seeing his son's disappointment, Bruce converted his tone.

"Damian," it was much more paternal, "I don't want to yell at you. You are my son. But you must understand the priorities at hand. There are more important things. Yes, I believe that you might have seen her, but at the moment, we can't think that she is up to something. Let us take care of the other threats."

Damian leaned against the chair and sighed. His lips pressed together angrily and he tried not to show his emotion too much.

"Fine. But only for de moment. When she does try something. We strike."

* * *

><p>There was not the slightest hint of obstruction when Josephine returned home to the factory. It was quiet, silent as the grave, –no –silent <em>as a-factory-without-idiotic-henchmen-who-can't-do-what-they-are-told<em> quiet. The conveyor belts, once heavy with teddy bears and toy xylophones, now housed new armory and other supplies her father was importing. She walked up to a line-up and stared at its new contents. There were new supplies gathered since the night before.

New guns ranging from 6 millimeter to rifles to bazookas lay against the spongy surface. A switch with turned on and the belt began to move the objects around the factory, revealing more and more loads of supplies. She ignored the sudden energy surge, mesmerized by the amounts of weaponry displayed. Bombs, hand grenades…the list went on.

Josephine's mouth was agape. It could not be her father. Sure, he works trembled on the high notes of genius, but this _–this was miraculous._

"Like my work?" A male's voice echoed from the shadows.

Josephine lifted her gaze in the direction of the owner, fingered the knife at her waist pocket.

"Who's there?"

"Now, now, no need to get all Rambo on me. I'm just a man with some," he paused, "entrepreneurship."

A figure emerged.

The first sight her eyes shot to was his blue hair slicked into a short Mohawk. He skin was white over his face, rubbed evenly with cheap greasepaint that smelled like tar. There were two teardrops pained under his left eye; just two, beneath a blue eye caked in black eye shadow. He was obviously some sort of Joker copycat out to beat out the old man. He wouldn't even have the chance. Better yet, she'd leave him diced for her father to see. Trying to take over the business, yeah right.

"What are you doing here?" She grit at the intruder. "Do you know what happens to trespassers here?"

"Now, now, clown princess. Down girl. I'm your friend," he said in a fake coaxing voice. "I was hired by your daddy dearest. The Joker's my man."

"Liar," she grit, revealing the slender blade and taking a measured step forward. _Joker would never hire this punk to do his dirty work. Look at him! He's a bad copycat out for his own agenda. Her father couldn't be more of a fool._

"Really? Why don't we ask _him_? Boss! Your little girl made it back safe and sound!"

"Wonderful!" None other than the Joker entered into her frame of vision dressed in his gaudy colored suit with nothing less than his astonishing presence. "Josie, I have someone I'd like you to meet. Josie, this is Jackie Boy." He clapped his hand on the boy's shoulder. Blue Hair grinned proudly. "He here is our new supplies specialist. Ain't that right Ol' Jack?"

Josephine stared blankly, stunned. Absolutely stunned at the sight of the camaraderie. So, he was a fool to hire him, but why? Why this punk? Why, why, why….

"Right –O, Boss. Anything you need, just ask." He winked at Josephine, to which she sneered.

"Now that's what I want to hear. Josie, this guy's full of laughs. Worth way more bucks than those bumbling fools we just…released. He's the price of the lot!" Joker cackled excitedly, not realizing the effect his words had on his child.

She stood there, mouth agape, but collected herself. There was obviously some mistake. He couldn't mean Firetongue and Ink. They didn't often let down the Clown clan. She rose to defend them.

"I could have done this, you know. I have two men of my own. We were stopped and –"

"–those idiots? They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag! So one can spit fire out of his ass and the other play puppeteer with some hocus pocus? That's not helpful at all! Where do you find them, Josie Girl? No, I think a little time in the slamma' will knock those bozo's heads on straight."

"We would have pulled off that heist last night, if the bat and his brat hadn't showed up–"

"–you met the bat? Well, well, I see where this is going. A little finger pointing, eh? Couldn't get the job done and has to blame someone else. Well, fine, Josie Girl, you just do that, but I've got a new man for the job now. Don't you worry your pretty head over it."

He strode over and tapped her on the nose. Josephine did not smile. She looked past her father to see Jack smirking at her. She stepped away from The Joker. A smile crossed her lips.

"I wonder something. If _he's, _"she thrust her index finger at Jack_, "_planning on staying with us," allowing her tone to darken as her idea flooded into words, "what are his feelings on _hyenas_?"

The smile dissipated on Jack. He visibly gulped. So, it wasn't funny anymore. Good.

Josephine formed her lips into a whistle, nearing sounding the call when the Joker let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh Josie Girl, why spoil the fun so early? The kid's got to get his feet wet first!" He placed an arm around Jack and the smile reappeared. "I tell you what Jack. Do everything you will for me and Ol' Uncle Joker will spare your life from a world of pain." He darkened his tone. His green eyes lit fiercely. "Got it?"

"Gotcha Boss. Nothing's too good for the Clown Prince of Crime."

"Outstanding! Let me walk you around a bit, introduce you to the sights."

The two began to stroll away, Joker's arm still around his shoulders. She could hear her father's voice echo from deep in the factory.

"_And this is where all the little baddies go who don't cooperate! Hoo hoo!"_

Josephine felt a sickening knot tie inside. So her father had a new little pet, did he? She remained there in the little lobby area, staring at the empty space where the two once stood. There was so much more for her to think about. Gotham was getting more and more complicated. She couldn't depend on anyone really. Her own father had practically disowned her in minutes over _guns_.

She considered staying, fighting Jack, defeating him, seeing the expression on her father's face as she squashed Jack's face into the carpet and stained the rug with his ruined body. No, that wouldn't work anymore. She saw the effect this Jack had on her father. Killing him would only make him a martyr to the Joker, making him angrier and throw her out. She thought about staying to see if things would work out but knew deep down she was second class now. That was the way with the Joker and she hadn't considered the seriousness of it until she was the replacement. She was the one wandering around the dark room, waiting to be stabbed out of surprise.

But she wasn't stabbed. Not yet. She still had time to find the weak spot. Not now, she needed time to breathe. To think about her position in Gotham and her allegiance.

She exited the double doors and into the night and did not feel the cold backlash of the doors as they clamped on her hand.


	7. Weathered Souls

**Surprise! This is what I like to call the Woden's Day Special, where I give you a short chapter midweek while also updating the following Saturday. Now, I don't think I will do this too often, but I felt like this chapter was a good length to start this. I hope you guys had a Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, and/or Kwanzaa. **

**Thank you to 9aza and forgetmenotflowers for reviewing the last chapter.**

**And, off to the races!**

High tops of Gotham's tallest skyscrapers were the perfect places for meditation. Josephine's mind wandered over the shining silver stories over which the moon was now reflecting, to the pinpricks in the stormy blanket above. Damp shingles wet her pants through as she sat in the shadowed parts of buildings where the water collected from the afternoon shower.

_So_, she thought, _Joker's found himself another favorite? Not just that, a boy to boot. Hm, how to deal with that._

It was not a hidden fact that their relationship had waned over the past few months; her mother's absence had only strengthened the tension, reinforcing the brackets of the boundaries between the two. Since Harley Quinn was in a coma, she was unaware of the world around her, or of the quarrel going on between the two she loved best.

She played with the hem of her jacket, zipping the zipping up and down, up and down, until the sound reverberated in her memory. She stopped. There was a rustling. Whether bird or _Bird_, she wasn't taking the chances. She bounded over the flattop and rushed until her limbs were bursting with adrenaline when she leapt off the building and rolled headfirst onto the next, making sure to somersault to prevent injuries. She did not stop. She kept running until she leapt onto the fire escape of the next building, a shabby little thing, not belonging to the righteous business area of Gotham. Her fingers pinched in grief over the rusted railings while she climbed to the top. Her pale fingers were a russet red when she ranged to the top and peered over the edge of the city.

There was a time when she would sit atop this tower, or one of the like and watch over the city for her father's gang, such as only a week ago with the men she just slau-…_took care of._

She was the lookout, the watchman. But, the kinky thing about it all was that she was _not_ Josephine Quinzel when she was doing it. No, when she was the watchman, _Josephine Quinzel_ was far away, stealing or beating the shit out of some hooligans who tried to best the Joker. No, she was known as Billy McKean, a rather thin, girlish henchman of the Joker meant to snoop out the traitors and keep a general eye on the horde of men under her father's payroll.

She remembered months ago before the tension grew and her other was in a coma. Before the accident, and before she started to care about Jonathan Crane…

"_To me, men, to me!" Shouted Big 'n Burly._

"_What're ya doing? You're not in the army anymore, ya flippin' idiot. No one really cares about that crap anymore. Besides, wouldn't you want to be away from all that standards and rules talk? This is Gotham, damn it! You don't get by on rules anymore! You're stealing and killing for Christ's sake!"_

_Big 'n Burly was none too happy with the outcome of his troop he had to lead to secure the premises for the Joker to operate on. The bank was a tough one but they had managed to keep low until they got the signal from the Clown Princess when they were to infiltrate. For now, it was only a matter of time._

"_Keep it up, men, and you'll end up sliced to ribbons by Josephine," said Josephine aka Billy. She spoke in a Scottish rogue, quite out of place for Gotham, but she found that henchmen came in all sorts of nationalities._

"_She's right. We need to keep our voices low. Do we need to attract all of Gotham?"_

_The rest grumbled to themselves and squandered time by doing pushups and showing off their "manly" muscles. Josephine couldn't help but roll her eyes under her bowler cap. These bunch of losers were really the bottom of the barrel. But keeping them in line was part of the job; the other part was to filter out the gossip and the lying cheats._

"_So, Burly, is it?"_

_Big 'n Burly nodded his head, showing off a bad history of dentistry._

"_What have you heard on the streets, I mean, you know, the bars and the others. I haven't been meself in the past, oh I don't know, couple of weeks. You know the pay for someone; say I don't know, The Penguin?"_

"_Penguin? I don't know nothing about the Emperor Penguin. People says he's rich and pays good. Well, I heard other. He ain't so grand a person and pays terrible." She shook his head to confirm it._

"_I heard that too," shot up gangly. "He ain't worth it. And he's stabbed his people with his umbrella right in front of him to show off. Down dead, they says. Who wants that?"_

"_Oh and the Joker don't do that?" asked Wiley. "He kill ya as soon as ya screw up his plans. You know that. It's a deathtrap workin' for 'im."_

_This one intrigued Josephine. "So why work for 'im if he's so bad a boss?"_

"_Pays okay. Besides, I get to get a good look at Harley. You know, she's probably bored all cooped up in that hideout of Joker's. Might be a good idea to show her a good time."_

_Josephine shuttered. She hated that part of the job. There were a good many scoundrels amongst the lots that always made comments on her mother's…looks. It was sickening. The really bad part was that she had to play along, or else they might suspect something. Strange thing that was what they'd catch you on, unless you wanted to fake being gay. Then, they'd just stone you or kill you. Very low tolerance for that in the henching business, unfortunately._

"_Yeah, she might be worth it," was all she added to it. Always the minimum for that sort of talk. "But enough about pretty women, I'd better go scope out again. See if there's any miscreants running around."_

"_Ya know Billy; you never really do anything else."_

"_I know, but this is all I can do, what with my delicate nature and all," she sneered. "Besides, someone had to make sure you losers won't be blindsided, am I right?"_

"_You little-"_

"_You said yourself, I 'ent very good at fighting. Not strong like you all. Alls I got to do to earn my pay. Besides, I won't be working for the Joker much longer."_

_Some were actually agape. Others nodded comprehensively. "Billy, going out?"_

"_Yeah, I figure I might cash my check and get the hell out. The clown's dangerous business. Any of you boys comin' too?"_

_There was a little silence. Some didn't know what they were going to do after the job, others knew but weren't planning on saying it aloud. She decided to encourage them further._

"_You know mates, there's a serious quiet rule here." She held a finger to her lips and smiled. "I don't think anyone here would snitch, right boys? I know I won't. I'll be hittin' Metropolis by the time Joker's thrown in Arkham again."_

"_Well of course I'm leavin'." Said Wiley. "Even Harley's sweet ass couldn't keep me from stickin' around her boyfriend and listening to him cackle. I'm with Billy on this one."_

_A couple of others concurred._

_Billy stared at Wiley. He would be the first in the darkness._

West. Gotham's west was a pinnacle of even taller, majestic sights, but the one Josephine craved was that of her favorite thinking place. She could just make out the steeple from beyond the museum. She ran for it and sought the opportunity.

St. Andrews Church was one Josephine found less than appropriate for her wanderings, but all the same, a safe asylum for herself. It was very rare, if impossible to see another henchman, villain, or Gotham ghoul in a religious place at all, let alone a Catholic cathedral during confession hours.

She bounded onto the roof from the steeple and slid down the slippery shingles to where she could hang upside down and curl herself under the gutter, placing a hand against a lose piece of stained Jesus Christ face glass to push aside and move onto the upper balcony inside.

An overwhelming scent of musk overcame the Clown Princess as she stood on the decades old church balcony. Behind her, varnished wooden pews sat, disturbed only by the bibles laid on their sticky sides atop the deteriorating puce cloth seats. She moved quietly among the emptiness and down the stairs, holding her breath as she did so every time she visited, knowing that a sound might give her away.

It was about eight at night as the ancient grandfather clock read downstairs. Josephine was on her guard the whole period. She did not remove her knife, however, harsh the consequences may be. She had some humility. A church was not the place for bloodshed, however, ironic the phrase probably sounded. She was relieved with the position of the confessional. It was, unfortunately, downstairs, behind all the pews, but the location was in the corner and for a great time, a great comfort for her in her hour of need. There were, to her happiness, no others in line to speak to the priest on duty.

Without another word, she spread the curtain aside. Feet first, as always, she stepped inside.

The chair was harsh against her back, and she couldn't help but ponder what those did that had no support in their back. Those with spinal injuries, osteoporosis, or arthritis probably struggled for the minutes or hours they stayed in the little compartment confessing their sins. Josephine did not make it a habit whatsoever to confess herself. She wasn't even sure she believed in religion. It always seemed very farfetched, but she couldn't disagree that speaking a stranger about your life sometimes had its advantages.

Other habits die hard. She never spoke the beginning words you are supposed to say before confession. There used to be a little "ahem," but not anymore. The priest knew her in the silence, but he did not know her identity.

"Bless you child," he began in a voice Josephine deemed calm and low, once whose effect on her was increasingly soothing, "what is it you want to discuss today?"

"It rained today."

"Yes, it did," said the Father. He was also used to the unique ways Josephine started a conversation.

"I missed it, I was asleep."

"A shame. I like to watch the rain. Have you watched it, ever?"

"Sometimes. It's dreary on days like this. It was so bright this morning."

"Yes, but sometimes there are things we can't help, such as the weather. We need the rain as much as the sun. It's what makes the world work."

"Hm," Josephine sighed.

"Was there something special you wish to discuss today, my child?"

"I…don't wish to take up too much of your time today, Father."

"You may take up as much as you wish. There are no others outside."

"Not when I came in."

"Then you have no time limit. You may feel free to discuss anything on your chest. This is a sacred confidence."

She hesitated. "Yes, I know. I wish to ask you something, Father. Is there a law declaring that one should always love their daughters, no matter what the circumstances?"

"I should hope that one would, without conditions, or consequences. As in the first commandment, Thou Shalt Honor Thy Mother and Father, I feel the parent should, in turn, love their son, or daughter."

"I think that may not register with all."

"I believe that it is something that should, even without religion. It is nature for a guardian to care for a child."

Josephine exhaled. "Nature. And…the ones who…defy nature?"

The Priest didn't answer immediately. "They are those who do not deserve to take care of such a child who honors and loves them."

Josephine was silent.

"But, know this, if it is a father you seek, you may look to the Lord, for He is good and loves all. I know you don't particularly care to hear that, but it's the truth. It can also be a comfort during the times of doubt."

"Thank you Father," she said, not knowing how to reply. Again, she did not really understand about religion and all its requirements.

"It is fine, child. I only hope that you can find what you seek in the world. Is that all for tonight?"

"I think so, but may I ask for your opinion on something?"

"Anything."

Josephine breathed deeply again and asked the question she feared most. "Is someone who commits terrible crimes past redemption?"

The priest did not answer swiftly, again. They sat for the long interval of three moments before he said, "no, anyone who gives penitence for their crimes are granted the divine amnesty."

"Thank you, Father…That is all for tonight."

"Very well, I'll allow you to leave first."

Josephine stood and exited quickly. Her footfalls sounded as she let herself out of the sacristy. As she did so, the priest stepped out and viewed the back of her head as the door closed behind her.

"Peace be with you, Josephine Quinzel."

**A/N: I would just like to state that I am not Catholic. The inspiration for the priest comes from Peter Clifford in the tv series _Ballykissangel_.**


	8. That Poisonous Emotion

**Happy New Year, Readers! Another Year going down tonight. 2012 in our midst, and my graduation year! I'm excited. Plus, I don't think that the world will end in 2012 either. I didn't go through puberty and twelve years of public school for that to happen.**

**I hope you have a wonderful rest of 2011 and I will post again on the seventh! See you then!**

That evening, the clown princess trekked across Gotham back to the Narrows and into Professor Crane's apartment. It was quiet again. There was an exception. A tender clicking echoed from below but it was hard to tell what the cause was. Most likely Crane was working away with gentle dexterity on his experiments, trying to create substitutes for what he did not have ingredients for.

Josephine entered downstairs. The steps creaked from age and neglect. She would not be the least surprised if one night she happened to bust through. However, it did make for a good alarm system if the person did not know where to step to avoid such happening. There was a single bulb lighting the way. It buzzed with cheap electricity. Little wiring in it slightly stirring with every step against the splintered wood.

Her covered feet padded across the dented and cracked cement floor. She spied the professor hunched over his lab table mixing the batches. Upon hearing her arrival, he made to grab his mask to spray the intruder but was evaded when she jumped from his reach and against his chest. The mixture would not have had any effect on her but she did so just the same. Her contact with him sent a little chill up her spine. Her arm brushed his clothing and spun her away from him as he recognized her.

"You were gone for a little more than an hour," he stated, replacing the mask and settling into his position. "I thought you returned home to the clown."

"I did." She fingered some of the samples. Apparently it looked as though he had been preparing as much as he could with the little supplies he had left and was fixing the current ingredients for when he received the stolen treasures he needed. "I came back."

"Something interesting occur?"

"A pest perhaps, but nothing that I cannot handle."

"The bird?"

"No, another for my own personal torture, but in a way, yes, a bird. A black bird, blue bird, blue jay. A bird of prey. Whatever it is that really gets under your skin. Perhaps he's better suited to be a rash that a bird. Its starts and before you know it, your place and mind are occupied by this one little problem."

"Is not Batman your pest?"

"Not anymore," was all she had to say.

He grunted. "Will this pest make you get the ingredients I asked you for?"

"It's planned. I'm going to Poison Ivy tonight. That should be efficient, don't you think? A nice Nightshade to brighten your evening."

"I'll be in a cheerier mood when I get my supplies Josephine. Or, you can get your loyal little companions to do it for you. Wait, I've heard word that they're not available at the moment."

"I can handle it on my own, professor." She traced a circle into the wooden table with the tip of her index finger. She repeated the pattern without saying anything. The professor stopped his tinkering to glance her. At that opportune moment, she caught his gaze. She held it. "You know what I'm capable of."

Dr. Crane carried the gaze for a little more than a second before fingering a test tube and adding ingredients to it. She watched him.

His long fingers moved with nimble dexterity as he poured some of the contents into each tube. With a culinary utensil, he chopped up the plants he bribed for into finite pieces and carefully measured each little piece. Her gaze switched to his attributes. His back arched as he bent over to get clearer views. Auburn hair fell into his eyes as he pinched some Belladonna and watched it settle to the bottom. Brown eyes transfixed on the chemistry. Green eyes transfixed on him.

This process went on for about two and a half minutes until he noticed that Josephine was watching him with widened eyes and a hand on her cheek, looking very pensive, but her gaze was piercing through him.

"The ingredients, Josephine," he reminded, not knowing what to do in this situation.

She blinked several times, her hand finding its way to her side. "I'm sorry, professor, I…was lost for a moment."

Dr. Crane stopped what he was doing and looked her over for a moment. He never absolutely stared at his assistant for more than a few seconds. He took those seconds to view her in full. She had brown hair, green eyes, fair skin and soft eyelashes. He ceased when she looked at him, but he caught something sorrowful in the way her eyes looked at him.

"Josephine," he began whilst starting back with his project, "does this pest, do anything to you?"

"No, but…" There was _another_ pest –a bigger one – she had forgone to mention to him on all counts of her privacy.

Her mind flickered to a memory of only six months before. She shuddered.

* * *

><p><em>Josephine sat in her holding cell in Arkham Asylum. Fingers fiddled together in anticipation for her next session. Her next session was with…<em>_**him**__._

_Her teeth chattered as she moved her hands to her upper body, massaging her arms and thin biceps. Her tongue touched every one of her teeth twenty times; eyes fixated on the dirty spot on the concrete in front of her. _

_She felt very alone here. In her cell, there was little sunlight, little joy, and little comfort, little everything. Her parents were cells away from her and she was only accompanied with Two Face and Dr. Crane. The gentle flick and ring of Two Face's coin happened every so often as he asked it his silent questions. She didn't make eye contact with him. It was a wiser thing to do._

_No one spoke to her except Professor Crane occasionally out of respect for her ease._

_Two minutes until the guards came. At least she could have two minute of hate for her doctor._

_A brawny guard appeared in her doorway. Tapping a few keys, the door shifted to one side. He clasped her arm and dragged her from the cell. She barely had the time to collect her steps._

"_You can show a little more manner," said Dr. Crane._

"_Hey, treat the lady nice," grumbled Two Face in his low chilling voice._

_The guard tossed her head back with teeth grit. "Shut up, freaks! I can man handle her all I damn well please!"_

_With that, he shoved Josephine. She nearly fell, but grasped the ground before her head cracked against the unforgiving floor._

"_Move on!" He smacked her again._

_She kept far ahead of him until they reached the doctor's offices. Leland stood outside her own office with a few colleagues. They quieted when they spied her. She tried to look brave but knew her features gave off of that of a child. Her eyes lowered and she stood near the door. The guard grabbed her arm and knocked on the door until they were admitted._

_The room was cold and uninviting. As soon as she sat in the vacant chair before his desk, the guard nodded in the doctor's direction._

"_She gives you any trouble. You holler, right?"_

"_That will be sufficient. Thank you."_

_The guard left. _

_Josephine was alone with him; alone and vulnerable to his will._

"_Shall we begin, Josephine Quinzel?"_

_Her bones quaked. _

"_For what?"_

"_For today's punishment."_

_Josephine feared it._

"_What is it today?"_

_A pause. "Electro shock therapy."_

_He came out of the shadows._

_Professor Hugo Strange was in._

* * *

><p>"Josephine," Dr. Crane balanced a test tube holder and stared at her. "Is something troubling you?"<p>

"There is a…another time for this."

Curious, he moved closer to her so that they were only two feet from one another. Her eyes were downcast. He slid his hands across the table, fingering the circular portion of a test tube rack. Warmth overcame him as he did so, being closer to his assistant. He could not describe it. Her face was barren of emotion now and she looked into his face, lips caught between her teeth. Dr. Crane felt the need to touch her face, her cheek, but hastily eradicated the thought. That was far from inappropriate, though her skin was looking very smooth in the light…no! He stopped the thoughts. No….he had allowed himself to into these waters before. It did not end well for him.

Upon seeing his sudden distress, Josephine slid away from the table, eyes never leaving his. "Professor, I should go to Ivy's and get your supplies," the words foreign, "I will return later tonight."

The doctor copied her movements and slid back to his work. "Yes, do so. I will order the men to gather the supplies from the Mafia. And Josephine? I have another plan for us when you return."

She stopped at the door and stared back him, edging away from it. "Another? But won't we have all the ingredients needed?"

"Yes, we will but we've stayed too long in this apartment. I fear –excusing the common phrase –that we may be compromised soon. I will not take that chance. We will move tonight. I will get the men to infiltrate the Italians, and then we will be ready."

"Am I to leave with you? Where will we go?"

Dr. Crane took to organizing his phials. "A place I know of. That is all I can tell you. For now, you will just have to be patient."

"Oh, Dr. Crane, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were kidnapping me." She smiled brightly. Her mischievous temper did not go unnoticed. He smiled in return, but soon found himself in that dangerous way again and put an end to it. He cleared his throat.

"I will see you later this evening, Miss Quinzel."

"Dr. Crane," she nodded and slipped out the door.

Her breath caught in her throat as she left the apartment. Her hand covered her mouth as she examined the event that passed before her.

_He stared at me with that look. That look of repression. I saw it. One person is all I ask. One person to care. Even the strongest monarch wants someone to care. Professor, are you that one. perhaps?_

Head craned to the sky she said, "Forgive me for my feminine weakness. I do not know how else to feel for him."

* * *

><p>Once Josephine was out of the Narrows, she set out to find her crew. Blackgate Penitentiary was the superb choice for holding criminals brave enough to face off against the dark knight. That was the first place to find them. She would need them as it happens that Poison Ivy would be less than persuaded to hand over some Nightshade plants.<p>

In her favor, she found them there, nicely tucked away in a cell rigged for "persons of special abilities." Breaking them out was not a problem. Breaking out of Arkham was less trouble. There was much more challenge in breaking out of a mental institution where every precaution is taken and every possibility measured. The two were quite happy to be ride of their neutralized chains and to be with their mistress again. Not that she may ever tell them, but ti was nice to have her cohorts straggling along beside her again.

Once out, the questions came with them.

"When are we heading back to the hideout?" asked Ink.

"Not now," explained Josephine as they ran over rooftops. They followed her as she bounded over the shingles and concrete. "We're doing a favor first. Perhaps later we will return."

"Oh, later then. What exactly is this favor? Is it for Riddler? Penguin? Mad Hatter?"

"No, stop asking. Remember what I told you about those who ask too many questions?"

"_Knives are quick to those who chatter, but silent men are those that matter_."

"Correct."

She knew there was a reason why she liked Firetongue the most. He was always silent. His muteness was a tradeoff for his ability to breathe the flames that helped them get out of so many problems. She was unaware of how this power came to be or if it was natural. She never thought to ask.

Her men's footsteps slowed as they reached the outer parts of Gotham where the greenhouses stood. They knew full well what was happening. Ink said nothing under penalty of an improvised nursery rhyme. Josephine read Firetongue's expression: _Poison Ivy? Why her_?

"Poison Ivy has something I want and I'm going to get it no questions asked. Understand? I'm going to go ahead, but you two will have to stay here unless I whistle for back up. Got it? Don't come in otherwise. Her plants will kill you in an instant and where would I be if that happened? Stay."

Sometimes he felt like she was speaking to dogs. They would always follow her. That was what she liked about the two of them. They were loyal and would work for no one else but her, even in the temptation of money. It was not her father but her they listened to. If she were to leave, they would follow. If she were to _leave her father_.

She skidded down an alley and off a building to walk across a lawn leading to an overgrown glass wall where the entrance to Poison Ivy's lair began. It was very much a task to try to fit into where the plants were but knowing where to step and how to slink your way came in great help. Besides, the plants liked her.

Josephine hurled herself through a rusted hatch surrounded in vines and greenery. She somersaulted through the air into a cavern lower than sea level. The air was misty and the ground was splayed in moss, dampening her clothes as she rolled into a safe crouch against the squishy texture. She stood before a host of moving vines and an effervescent glow of chlorophyll.

"Who enters my domain?" asked a low echoed voice from the shadows.

A closed Venus fly trap rose from an unknown abyss and opened to find Poison Ivy sitting atop its tongue as a throne.

"Hello, Aunt Ivy," approached Josephine, taking a cautious step toward the poisonous woman. Every time she entered the realm, she thanked her father's blood for its anti-toxin properties.

"Josephine! I did not expect you." The fly trap lowered itself to the moss covered ground, sticking out its tongue as a staircase.

"I'm here for an impromptu visit."

She tried to made her voice sound as friendly as she could, but somehow the circumstances made her feel like Ivy would see right through her. Ivy could usually sense someone's insincerity. Mother Nature knew all.

"Who were you expecting?"

"Tall, dark, and troublesome, as always." She stated in her low, velvety voice.

"Done something wrong again? Put the mayor's wife though a weed whacker? Bomb an industrial plant? I'd be intrigued to know."

Josephine was relaxing with the teasing. She sat near a large mushroom.

"Nothing that wasn't earned." A vine wrapped around her hand affectionately. She stroked it as one would a pet or a young child. "Going to tell on me?"

"No, who wants to know?"

"You're right. Your father would. That clown is usually snooping into my business as of late. I'm warning you Josephine, if he so much as lays a finger on you, I'll–"

" –I'll tell you straight away. He doesn't say anything to me really. I'm the neglected sort."

"Honestly, Josephine, you should leave him and come with me. I'm thinking about retirement. All this running around bores me. I'd rather spend my time where the real wildlife is, where my beloved babies can grow rather than wilt in this poisonous city. South America has a lovely array of exotic beauties. And the Amazon plants are never protected enough. You should accompany me Josephine, you would be most welcome."

"I'm going to stay here. Much as I'd like to travel the world, I don't think my place is anywhere else but in Gotham."

"But I can take you away from that clown. Harley will come too…if she gets better…_when_ she is better." Ivy's face dropped. A couple more vines slithered from tables masses to comfort her. "Have you seen her?"

"Not lately." Josephine was ashamed to admit she hadn't visited her bedside in the last month. Breaking into a medical hospital was not as easy as Arkham. Nor was as good a time as any to change her sides.

"I know _he_ hasn't either. That rotten lunatic. He did this to her. He's always the problem for her."

Ivy was still under the impression that Joker's gas had put her mother in her comatose state. Josephine was not about to clarify the truth. It was another secret she added to her ever growing list of betrayals to everyone around her.

She knew her father probably had not visited her. Maybe he did, maybe he hadn't. She was never sure. Maybe he went yesterday with roses and sat by her bedside. Maybe he held her hand. Maybe he whispered to her what he couldn't in the day. Maybe one of those things was a three letter phrase usually uttered to a longtime lover. Maybe this was all a lie Josephine thought of to comfort the fact that her father may not care if her mother lived or died.

But, if she must speak to someone of her feminine troubles, Mother Nature would be the best choice. She decided to venture the idea.

"Aunt Ivy, what do you think of Professor Crane?"

"Jonathan? Obsessive, a bit proud, but not as cruel as the others can sometimes be. I think I may prefer him to some of the rouges. Why do you ask?"

"I've been speaking to him."

Ivy lowered her voice. "Speaking?"

"Academically. About another situation. Sometimes…I work for him." She didn't know any other way to put it.

"Still working for a man," Ivy sighed. Josephine mentally exhaled. It was a better way to react than she'd hoped.

"But you agree he's better than the Joker. He treats me better. And I like him."

"You care for him." Ivy's gaze met her straight on. "_Be careful of that_. It's how the other situations are created."

Josephine sighed. "I know."

"But, you have a strong head on your shoulders. You are young, though. You say he is good to you?"

"Yes, he treats me with respect; as a friend. At least, that's how I think of him."

Ivy quirked an eyebrow.

"And that is all?"

"Yes," said Josephine. Rather defiantly.

"And here I thought you were different, Josephine. Evidently I knew it would come to this."

"What?"

"You've discovered men, little one. Handy as they are, they are also dangerous ad pigheaded; which is why I prefer to live without them. I suppose this is your first step towards womanhood."

"That isn't something I would have expected you to say. It's strange for a woman to say that that hates men."

"Strange, but true. Attraction is a part of nature. And I am nature itself. This is what all must go through, little one." She covered the short distance between the two and settled near her adopted niece. "But I must say your choice is better than others have been," she added with a slight melancholic end.

"My choice of what?" Josephine leaned away a little.

"A lover."

She leapt up.

"What? No! No, no, no…that's wrong. You're wrong! No! I don't feel that way. I don't. I don't! No, no, no, no…its wrongs it's so wrong. I don't feel. I _do_ feel that it's wrong."

Josephine buried her face in her hands.

"It's wrong. It's wrong and I know it, but I can't help it. It's not my fault. I wish it wasn't like this. I wish I could cut out my stupid heart. Troublesome feelings always get everyone in trouble."

Poison Ivy strode over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It never makes sense."

Josephine sat her chin on her hands while Ivy rubbed her back.

"I don't understand why it has to happen this way." She looked at Ivy. "I feel warm whenever I think about him; yet, when I sometimes think about him, I'm sore and hurt. He won't feel the same. I know he won't." She added quickly, "he's always obsessed with his work."

"What you need, dare I say against my beliefs, is to speak with him. As I said earlier, I would much rather you reside with him than with the clown. Jonathan can be…difficult, but I've watched him over the years; he may endeavor to feel the same. He must care about you, if you're still here."

Josephine shook her head.

"I want it that way, but if _he_ ever finds out." She sniffled. "If he ever found out my affections for Professor Crane, he would beat him while I watched. Maybe even…oh I don't want to think about it."

Poison Ivy nodded. She brought their heads together. "I only want you to be safe. Do you know that? That is all I want. You and your mother's safety."

Josephine sniffled again and faced Ivy. "I…have a favor to ask you."

_Crash! Bang! Crack!_

The roof rumbled as it gave way to intruders. Ivy hugged her close as two figures descended from the ceiling and landed on some of the larger of Ivy's babies. A dark figure rose along with a red and black clad youth.

"Batman, when will you ever learn to stop calling on a lady when she's said no."


	9. Great Balls of Fire

**Happy Readers! My holidays are over with. Sad face. But, I'm onto a new semester and another whole week away from school! Oh the joys of senior exam exemption. The few perks my school offers to upperclassmen. More time to work on my lovely story for you all.**

**P.S. – I'm glad the Rapture didn't occur at midnight New Year's Eve. The world can't end. I have plans.**

**Live long and prosper.**

"Ivy, you know why we're here," Batman affirmed in his bass voice.

"Oh, come to blame something naughty on my plants? Oh they're only children Batman, they will learn eventually."

"He's talking about that chemical in Ace, you green witch."

"My plans are secret and most assuredly exclude you, although if you wish to be allowed a pass, I'm sure we can work something out." Ivy threatened.

"Don't leave me out of this," Josephine interceded.

Batman narrowed his eyes at his most dangerous foe's daughter. "Josephine, I didn't know you were a part of this."

"Oh you know how it is, always nice to work for the family." Her eyes flew to Ivy.

Robin stepped forward and away from his protector. "You little bitch! I knew you were up to something."

Josephine cocked her head and grinned mockingly. "Boy Wonder! So difficult to take you seriously in all that pigment. You may want to ease the color palette. My father wouldn't be too happy to know someone else is challenging his style."

Robin too another step forward with a fist. He growled at the Clown Princess. "Don't challenge me again or I will beat your wild mind back to sanity."

"Honestly? Is that truly a promise?"

Robin nearly sprang onto her before his mentor interrupted.

"Enough! Josephine, you stole guns out of the armory at the Falcone docks and from Gotham's private armory in upper state. You have ten seconds to tell me what Joker's planning."

Her eyes widened. The upper state guns? No one with a sane or insane mind would try to touch those! It was far too risky. "I may have touched some dock guns, but never the private armory. That's a death wish."

"There is evidence to prove otherwise."

"What? I've set foot near it!"

Batman did not take lightly to it. Either way, she was coming with them. "With or without your consent, your crimes have extended past tonight. You both are coming with me."

"Oh it's back to me again, Batman," said Poison Ivy in her low tones. "How thoughtful. However, there's not going to be a rendezvous tonight. You see, once you take that chemical from that factory away from it, it becomes a dangerous device that can control the senses and physical movements." She gasped. "Maybe even their minds. Ever heard of that, dark knight?"

Batman narrowed his eyes. "It's not going to work, Ivy, don't even try. It's been isolated."

"Oh, but you see, it's not the isolation that makes it work, it's the contact. Once a human has touched the chemical, I can control them all I want. Watch it work." She gestured to Robin who in the events of conversation had elapsed into a seizure.

He shook greatly, unable to control hos movements any longer. His limbs vibrated as if struck by lightning. Foam trickled down his mouth and onto the gold "R" on his chest plate. Josephine found herself grinning uncontrollably at the sight of her foe as his protector knelt by his side and tried to restrain him. It was to no avail. But then, he stopped. Batman tried to wake him but Ivy decreed her plants hold him back. Unable to fight their strength, He collapsed in their embrace.

Josephine observed Ivy as she held out her hand, as a ready puppeteer and waved her hand up. Robin stood, legs wobbling. A dull expression covered his face, mouth numb from the toxins. Josephine watched him as keen as a child watches a puppet show. Now, the magic would begin.

"You see, Batman," Ivy moved her hand forward and the boy walked toward her in his zombie like state, "he is under my control. Not even a poison kiss needed to do this. There is nothing you can do to stop him."

"Only stumble around, Ivy? That's hardly going to help you in your work."

"Oh, but you have to wait for him to ripen. You cannot pluck a rosebud from its stem before it blossoms." Her visage darkened. "In fact, you should never pluck it at all."

Robin collapsed onto the mossy ground again. The two smirked. The men of Gotham were helpless. As much fun as she was having, it was time for Josephine to take her leave. Plus, she had to remember to gather her little souvenir before she left. She turned away.

"Why Josephine, you aren't staying for the show?"

"No offense Ivy, but somehow, someway, the Bat is going to escape and I'm going to be long gone before it happens. I have faith in you to keep him tied up though. I cannot say for how long. You may want to take that vacation sooner than planned. Oh, and hats off for giving me the cheering up I needed with Robin's little performance."

Poison Ivy stood with a smile spread across her face. It swiftly changed to contempt when her gaze wandered back to the Bat. Her eyes went cold with feminine scorn. There was a great deal of surprise as to the Bat being able to stay in one piece and not melt under the fixed stare. As much as Josephine might _like_ to stay, under the circumstances, she thought it best to leave as speedily as possible. Reinforcements might be at hand, and she did _not_ want to stick around for that brawl.

"No, Ivy I think I'll be going," she did a once over of the greenhouse, finding the nightshade, "but before I do, I think I'll go ahead and take –"

_Crash_. The roof of the greenhouse cracked open more, allowing the chilly air to seep into the sauna like jungle. Josephine shivered, as did the plants as they lay on the ground, seeping in the warmth absorbed in their sweet earth. Two more figures emerged from the mossy sea they landed in. Josephine recognized them immediately as her own two guards. Happiness filtered away at the physical sight of their disobedience.

"Josephine, what are these two doing here?" Ivy's voice lowered an octave. Vines swirled around her protectively.

Fists gripped at her side. Here in front of Ivy? They made it look like she couldn't keep them under control. What was Ivy to think of her? She gnashed her molars. "I thought I told you two not to come in unless I gave you an order?"

As the two fought their way from the miniature bog, Ink summed up his reasoning in few words. "The Nightwing is here!"

The Clown's daughter dropped her anger. "Oh, that is a good reason. Where is he?"

"Coming down the last tower. He's almost here."

"Wonderful, back up." She rolled her eyes, very impolite, she knew, but it was certainly an excusable time, she told herself. Fingers unclenched but took to tapping her hip in anticipation for a plan. Improvisation was supposed to be a parlor trick but at these stressful times, it was difficult to summon such a valuable talent. What was she to do? She wasn't about to get thrown in Arkham Asylum, that was for sure, and not allow her two men to end up in their cells at Blackgate.

"If the first Boy Wonder, is on his way, let him. I'll take care of him."

"I know you could, but the problem is, numero uno is probably leading reinforcements –cops, detectives, you name it with him." When Ivy didn't seem too swayed with the police attempt, Josephine added, "Poison Control will also be among them. Do you want your babies to suffer because you wanted to take him on?"

Ivy stiffened. Her plants levitated around her, swaying with her emotions. She stroked and cooed to them. "What do you have in mind?"

"Why not let me give you some assistance. It's the least I can do since you let me see," she gestured towards Robin drooling on the floor, "that." She faced Ink. "You know, you could probably hold off a good many of those cops. But, your main precedence is to lure Nightwing away. As long as he doesn't get to the hideout, they won't know where Batman and Robin are. Do you understand?"

He swallowed loudly. "Perhaps, but if you want me to, mistress, I will." He gave a small bow. She nodded at him.

"Good. That's settled. Ink will help defend your boundaries. You're in luck, Ivy. I'm not giving you the one who could burn down all of your plants." Eyes flickered to Firetongue standing quietly near her. The green light bathed his face in its mystical glow. Small scars scattered over his face appeared more prominent. He diverted his gaze. She forgot he did not like to have the spotlight put on him. "I'll go ahead and leave then. Good luck, Ivy."

She and Firetongue walked towards where the hatch was. A quick glance behind showed Ivy directing Ink where to go to avoid killing any of her "babies." Swiftly, she snatched a pot of the Nightshade and issued her Firetongue do the same. With some hesitation, he picked up a pot and vigilantly followed her out of the greenhouse.

* * *

><p>The two strode down the south end of Gotham without a care. Firetongue kept checking their backs for any followers but Josephine was dead set on getting the supplies to where it needed to be.<p>

_So,_ she thought_, Ivy knows my secret now_. She walked with certain rigidity, pondering over what have come over her to betray herself like that._ Ivy is like an aunt to me. She's practically a sister to my mother. Why shouldn't I be able to trust her? _Because you can't trust anyone in this town. You never know when someone is going to stab you in the back. She closed her eyes, sighing heavily, -praying that Ivy would have the heart not to relay anything that she held in confidence to anyone –not even Batman, especially not him, he could tell her father. Then what would happen to Professor Crane?

_He would get the chair again_, she decided. Yes, that would be his fate, and all thanks to her.

Her glance fell to her side. She was glad of the assistance by Firetongue. It was nice not to be so alone. Once in a while, there was a good henchman, and he was 'tongue. She admitted she liked him because of his silence but there was somehow a mutual understanding between him and her she could not lay her finger on. Whenever she was around him it was like he understood her. She wouldn't venture to say it was anything like a psychic connection; those powers may not exist between non-powered people. Although, there was that "plant empathy" Ivy had. She _did_ have powers, though. Perhaps it was something similar. Anyhow, she was grateful for the company.

"It's not so wet out at the moment. Wouldn't you say?"

He blinked at her. _Yes_. She grew more and more competent with his body language. It was very easy for her to tell what he mind said in its silenced voice.

It was hazy if he or Ink knew her secret. She made sure to keep her life with the Joker and with Scarecrow, separate. She did not know how they would take her "betrayal" so to speak. They may not even care. They should not care. As long as they worked for her, they shouldn't give a damn about who her employer should be. Nevertheless, she was not sure of herself much anymore. One minute it was Joker, the next, the professor. It felt like morals were growing on her. _She_ shouldn't care, but she did. Morals were not something henchmen were very well known for. Then again, she wouldn't consider Ink and Firetongue henchmen. A guard fit the bill for the title.

"'tongue, I'm going tell you something that you may not really like, but I may not care if you do."

He kept staring forward as they walked.

"The Joker's hold over me in my life in wearing thin." She paused. How to say it… "I honestly don't know how much longer I'm going to be under his control." She waited or some kind of facial response. When she got nothing, she continued. "But, there is someone else who may be better for us. Someone who might give a damn about whether or not we live or die. Someone like…"

_Someone like whom?_

"Someone like Professor Crane."

His eyes leveled on hers. He squinted at her and cocked his head, like he wasn't sure of this. Then his head set straight and he nodded profusely, lips pinched together in stress.

_That is why you made me collect the plants. It's for the Scarecrow, is it not?_

She nodded and turned away. "Yes, that's why we appropriated the plants. It's for the fear toxin formula. I agreed to get some for him." She waited for another response. His lips stayed in that stressed position. His face did not move at all.

Josephine decided that she didn't care that he cared about blood loyalties. She stepped forward, the same grim expression overcasting her face and took the plant from him.

"I might have thought you'd follow me anyway I chose, 'tongue. I suppose I can allow myself to be wrong, regrettably in this instance." She slowly nodded a goodbye to him.

She backed away from him and began her walk. There were still some things she needed to get and she was going to take them with or without Firetongue.

Her pacing echoed down the dampened streets. It wasn't until the third block she reached, that a frenzied pattern of footsteps followed her. Looking behind, there was no one. That knowing feeling of dread chewed away. Someone was near and it may not be a well-meaning assistant. She listened to the sounds of the night. Where she was, there were not many people out. Signs over dirty bars buzzed with electricity of pictures. The lights surrounded pictures of cheap beer, wine and whores. These were the streets she grew up on. It was a moment when she thought to herself, _is this really where I want to be in twenty years? _

Being in Gotham with new sets of clown goons every day for her to slaughter week after week, although it was one of her fondest passions serving under her father, did not come off as glamorous as her twelve year old self once though it to be. It was fun with her father, mother and herself taking on the bat head to head, but now that it was down to two, and…_Jack_, she never thought 'three is a crowd' to be a more accurate saying. She was not even sure if she wanted to compete with him. It seemed easier to just walk away and never come back. Then again, that wasn't her nature. She wasn't sure if she could do just that and be one hundred percent okay with it. Nevertheless, she was tired of thinking in the same circles.

The rustling happened again. Whatever it was, it was footsteps. Someone was following her. She whipped around, a slight hope igniting that he might have changed her mind. She shouldn't have cared, but she couldn't deny the simple fact that she did. Firetongue was nowhere to be found. Her hand slipped into the knife holder. Whoever it was, was going to be extremely sorry they every messed with Josephine Quinzel tonight. She winced at the pain that ached in her head from over-analyzing everything.

A shadow scurried overhead. Josephine neared the building and waited for another sign of the tailor. He would make another mistake; it would be his last. She crouched down and waited for another sign before she launched herself on the gutter drain toward the roof, but before she did, a loud thud beside her happened and two men grabbed her from nowhere. The attack was so sudden, she dropped her knife. The men were burly, muscled, the perfect candidates for mindless henchmen. She thought if she were to sneak a hand near a throat if she could manage. She twisted out of reach but they only slid a leg beneath her and held her on the ground. There was apparently no escape. These men were not the common crop. They were specially trained. He squirmed under their hold but they had her legs pinned down too. She feared the worst.

They spoke to each other in Italian. Bits she could make out. She was proficient in the language. All that time with the Falcones paid off. "Scusi, scusi!"1

"Chiudere su e non dovremo dolerla."2

"Chi l'ha assunto? che ha assunto lei? Mi risponde!"3 She kicked and kicked but they had a strong hold over her.

"Essere tranquillo, la principessa di pagliaccio!"4

They lifted her and began to carry her off. But, surprises came in heated packages.

A ring of fire burst forth, knocking down the men and Josephine with them. They sat up and patted their flaming legs, wincing and cursing as they did so. She saw Firetongue around the corner walking her way, mouth lit up. She dodged the men's grasps and went for her knife, slicing the arm of one as she did. He screamed in pain.

"Teaches you to mess with the mistress of a fire breather, huh boys? Carnies don't take too kindly to messing with their kin." Josephine's bragging was not entirely called for, but she did not care. She was glad to see him again. Even though he may only do it out of service for himself.

The men stood, one yelled at the other, who was cradling his arm. "Prendere la ragazza. Uccidere il ragazzo. Il capo ha detto che abbiamo bisogno di suo vivo."5

"'tongue, I don't think they're in the giving mood. Take the second one. I'll finish off Bright Eyes."

He nodded and sucked in as much oxygen as he could and blew are hard as he could right to left.

Josephine ducked and dodged the cut man's reaches. His face was set on intimidation, but it wasn't fooling her. Years of training with the bat had taught her that punks were punks and could always be taken out. She dodged and faked, dodged and faked. It was a dance. And someone always lead, someone always fell. She faked right and the man dodged out of reach long enough for her to nail the blade into his gut. He inhaled sharply. Taking no chances, she twisted the blade cruelly. The man bellowed out, blood spewing from his mouth as he fell over, hands wrenching at his stomach trying to close the wound that could never be closed.

She breathed out. Blood smeared all over her hands. She did her best with her pants, but the denim was not exactly looking too pretty when she raked it over her palms.

She looked over to find Firetongue leaning above his man, unforgiving amber eyes staring, sucked in deeply, and exhaled all over the man until he was a screaming pile of flames, and soon, silenced. Firetongue sucked in and repeated it again and again until the man was nothing but a hissing pile of ash. It was an exhilarating sight. Never had she seen him so violent in this way, the flames all over this man with such determination. She admitted she had underestimated him. It also frightened her. He was so capable of all that power and pain…and so willing to use it. It was nothing compared t a mafia hit man or assassin. It was pure rage.

She stared at that pile of grey ash. Not even bone survived the intense heat. She sucked in, a little overwhelmed. It was nothing like she was used to seeing.

Her trance was interrupted when a hand laid itself on her shoulder. She jumped a step away. Her eyes wild with fright when she same him, a hand over his mouth trying to control the heat coming in and out.

She shivered, whether from the cold or fright, she didn't know. She pulled her jacket closer around her and tried to breathe in but of course the air was filled with the stench of smoke and burning skin. Her nose wrinkled.

Firetongue stopped his post-flame ritual to blow some fire into his hands, warming them. It looked so inviting, yet, she took some steps away from him, walking over to where the plants were. As she was about to gather up some of the loose dirt and repot them as best she could, he was by her side and took her hands.

Josephine nearly pulled out her knife but he held them very carefully. One hand was full of flame and he held it under her hands, taking them and allowing the blazes to lick them. The second hand was added to increase the flame. He held her frostbitten fingers over the white flame, permitting heat to seep through her chapped fingers.

She watched the flame, not knowing what else to do since staring at him felt a little…awkward. Soon her ears traced over each little quiver as licked over his hands, stretching out to her. It was like a living thing. She had never really watched fire spread over someone as it did that one man. But this was something very different. It was…_playful_. The closeness caught her breath, something that did not –rarely, –happen. He moved closer. They were nearly shoulder to shoulder. He leaned his head down –not to kiss her! No, never would he do that. He just…she did not have an excuse, but edged away. She did not take personal interest in him. She never did. He made her curious, but now he was pushing the borders.

And she did not like it. Chapped hands, or not. She shoved them in her pockets. Besides, she felt emotion for another. What was she saying? She didn't even know what he was doing. It could have been purely for body heat since it was borderline freezing out. She was doing it again, being presumptuous, and being –_rude_. He just…needed to keep his distance.

_Josephine…._

She could feel his gaze eating away her back. Sensing it was like being burned by the flames he breathed. She turned around, hoping her final thoughts were realized over her first.

_No matter what you decide, let me go with you. The Scarecrow…his gaze intensified. He's dangerous and can be just as manipulate as the Joker._

So he didn't think highly of her father. "I don't need your protection." She took a step back. "And I can take care of myself."

He looked to the slashed body and ash sinking into the concrete. _No infraction on your skills, but how do you know that Crane did not send these men?_

"Because Professor Crane couldn't…would not do that. I don't have to justify myself to you! I can do as I please."

Josephine walked over to the plants and began repotting them, since her scuffle had knocked them out of their places. Hopefully, they were not calling out to their mother for help. The last thing she really needed was for Ivy to show up with a thousand angry vines ready to prick her until she bled to death; but, the small joys of having _two_ guards to offer.

She looked over her shoulder, still bitter. "Come along if you want, but I'm not enforcing any sort of law say you have to_. But know this_. Remember all I did for you the past few years. The least I should ask for is some faith."

She did her best gathering the plants into the cracked pots. They would keep, for now. All she had to do was deliver them and be done with it. But, what was she to do once she reached the apartment? She hadn't any of her belongings. They were all in the factory. The professor may not wait for her.

_He _needs_ the plants. If he has to wait, he has to wait. Fate be kind tonight. I'm going back to the factory._

She trudged forward, carrying her herbs, with a discontented circus man close behind.

**A/N: Translations – Sorry that the numbers might have disturbed the reading process. They were superscripted to begin with.**

**1: Excuse me!**

**2: Be quiet. Don't make us hurt you.**

**3: Who are you working for? Who is it? Answer me!**

**4: Shut up, Clown Princess!**

**5: Take the girl. Kill the boy. The boss wants her alive.**


	10. The Jack of all Asses

**Woden's Day Special! Thanks to all who reviewed/read, you are awesome people. I'm glad you're getting more intrigued. I definitely love Firetongue. He's a boss. This chapter is interesting…you might want to slap me after this, but if it makes you feel any better, I feel the pain, trust me. **

The factory could be sold as a spook house. If you tilted your head –it looked like a sideways spook house.

The looming double doors seemed bigger since she returned. Josephine's worries were not over the scariness of the building. That was pathetic. She would be really losing it if that were the case. The fact of the matter was what to do with the squirt sitting in there probably sipping on his peppermint tinted hot chocolate. This kid was invading her thoughts all the time and she had only met him once. She wanted him out.

"'tongue, we're going in. Back me up should anything sour go down."

Firetongue shot her a confused stare. Of course, he didn't know about the little problem behind the walls. He would see soon enough.

The two enter through the doors as quietly as possible. As quietly meant hearing the loud screech that sounded. Josephine sighed. Was nothing going to go well? Tonight was a test of her patience. Fate may want to help her out.

The factory was still full of the instruments of mirth and terror. There had been no additions, to her happiness. There was a large amount of extra bins in the corner of the storage room, making the place feel much smaller than it actually was. It wasn't the cozy kind of small. It was something, uncomfortable, foreign. It was like a messy, established industry. Not like a home. Her heart pounded. She hoped that Jack hadn't decided to…move in. That was something she would not stand for. Sure, she was thinking about leaving her father, for a little while at least, but she couldn't stand her home being slimed up by that blue-haired punk. Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Keep near the door, I'll go up and get my stuff. Maybe we might have something else to put those plants in," she whispered to Firetongue. "While I'm up there, is there anything you want me to get?"

He shook his head. She shrugged. At least it is polite to ask.

So far, the place seemed abandoned. No henchmen as of yet, no Joker…_no Jack_. She strayed into the family area, as it was called. There was a rug, a couch, a table, and a TV for Joker's viewings of his terror rose over Gotham. He liked to sit on the couch and point to the pictures of himself on the screen laughing it up and shooting some person or another. Her mother would sit and declare what a genius he was while Josephine would smile proudly. That was what she had to look forward to filling the shoes of. The Clown Prince of Crime. Her father. The memories streamed back, but she couldn't bring herself to reminisce. There were tasks at hand –"

" –evening Little Josie," Jack stood on the stairway, grinning in only an undershirt and dress pants. So, he was taking to looking the part now? After only meeting him a couple of hours ago, he made himself quite at home, to her disgust. She sneered.

"Sorry to see you here, Jack. These are after hours, you know. Best clear out while you can."

He half smiled and cocked his head, leering. "Oh, your father knows I'm here all right. He offered me a room. Now, we'll be roomies." His gaze followed her body.

She held back a bit a vomit. But she couldn't contain a shiver of contempt.

"Oh, are you cold? Might want to get back up to bed? Here, I can _help_ you…" She smacked his hand away. "Whoa, down girl. Behave. I'm growing to be quite a favorite with your Dad. You and I are going to be," he quickly stepped up to her so that they were about half a foot apart, "very close."

She shoved him away, "Get off of me, you damn slime. I don't want anything to do with you. And touch me again, and you'll see what it feels like to be a servant of the Shang Dynasty. Has it occurred to you that my father only keeps you here because of your current usefulness?" She inclined her head an inch towards his. "What happens when your services are no longer needed, I wonder? Oh…I'll probably be asked to kill you!" She admitted happily, widening her eyes, and shaking her head wildly with joy and ridicule.

Jack only scoffed. "Do you really think the Clown Prince of Crime is going to give me up? When I can offer him all the guns and toys that he wants? Think about it, Josie. What can you do? What have you done?" He began circling her. "He only kept you around because you're his daughter. What, you've got a little flesh and blood, so what? You can do some knife tricks, so what? Nobody cares about that. You're going to be left in the dust with the rest of the men you've taken out. How do you feel you're going to be welcomed back on the streets after all you've done? No one's going to want you. You're going to be eaten alive by each person you burned. And it isn't the Joker who's going to be paying for it," he drove his finger into her heart, "it's you."

She stared him down. His finger remained at her chest. His gaze stared right back. Neither was going to look anywhere else. She breathed in, that scent of tar and ugliness. His arrogance overpowered him. Her breathing was loud in her nostrils, jaw clenched. His was too, until the hand pointing found its way to the back of her head. She barely had the time to look away but it was far too late. The damage was done. In a split second his lips were on hers. They were rough and unwelcomed. It was nothing as how she imagined. It was not from attraction or any kind of fondness, it was a power statement. The Jackass was kissing her, instead of anyone else in the city, not even her doctor. He inhaled deeply as his lips pursed against hers. She almost threw up in his mouth and wished she had. At least the taste of sick would cover up the cracked makeup and teeth fuzz that was lying on her taste buds.

After about five seconds of the abuse, she managed to shove him away and spat at him. Saliva flew through the air and onto his face, splayed out under the subdued lights. Lips found her sleeve and were abused by the rough cloth until sufficiently sanitized. She spat at him again, a trickle of spittle hung from the corner of her lip. She was a feral dog beat, eyes piercing her foe with such anger. This time was not going to bode well for him.

Before she had time to delve any threat, verbal or physical, Firetongue was on top of him, clenching his throat and holding him against the wall. A fixed, angered look spread across Firetongue's face whilst Jack just laughed.

"Aw, he's upset. Don't tell me you have another sugar, Josie." He whispered to Firetongue, "Did I do it before you?" Firetongue slammed him against the wall again. Jack sucked in the pain, showing off his mustard colored teeth. "Quite a hand you've got on you. Oh wait, are you the one who shoots the fire out his ass, because I think that's a real turnoff for the ladies –"

Fire tongue spewed a ball of flame in his hand. Josephine watched him with intensity. He would do it, too. She saw what happened to that man before. He was slaughtered worse than any person she'd seen. He would burn the coward to ash in mere minutes because he touched her. But if Joker found him like that, he would know. Her anger evaporated, replaced with intense worry. It was not that that occupied her thoughts. Joker would know it was Firetongue. At his next opportunity, he would capture and torture the fire breather. Firetongue would be at the mercy of her psychopathic father. She was almost too late when he nearly shoved it in his face before Josephine grabbed his arm and yanked it away. It was the thought that counts. "Stop! Don't you dare!" She held his arm, shooting him a menacing glare.

_He…he touched you. He deserves it._

"I know he does, but when Joker finds out you did it, he'll only kill you."

_It doesn't matter. I can still do it with a clean conscience. _

"Don't do it," she sighed, "for me. Don't do it. For your own sake."

_I'm not a coward. I'll take the punishment. As long as he gets what he deserves._

"What? Are you two having a psychic conversation or something?"

Against better judgment, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't. We're leaving anyway."

"Oh, where're you going?"

"Vacation," she snapped.

She shook him. "Let's go. You can have your chance another time." He didn't move, the blaze still flickered in his palm. "I promise. When he fails," she met Jack's gaze, "you can do whatever you like to him."

Firetongue released him. He did not stop staring at the man who was only a few years older than himself. He tensed when Josephine released him. She turned to him, "just go up and grab any of my clothes. I'll keep an eye on the son of a bitch."

He nodded but lit up the flame and smashed it into Jack's face, searing part of his Jaw. Josephine made no move to stop him that time. He screamed out as the flash melted under the intensity. Firetongue dropped his hand, sneering at him while doing so. He left for a couple minutes whilst Josephine flipped her knife out and watched Jack. He stared straight at her.

"So, is he your boyfriend?"

She was silent. Josephine got a closer glimpse at the mark on his face after Jack removed his hand long enough for him to look for blood on the palm. All Firetongue had done was lay three fingers on the jaw, searing a tattoo into the bastard's face. It was very hard to suppress a grin, but she managed it. Joker might even laugh at it. That's what happens when you don't listen to a member of the Clown family. _You get burned._

She imagined how the conversation would happen if Joker cared to ask.

"_What did you do to your face?"_

"_I tried to shove my tongue down your daughter's throat. Is there a problem with that?"_

_With luck, **gunshot**._

"Oh, I see the old silent treatment. I get it. Was it because you felt something?"

Slowly, deathly, she shook her head, eyes staring straight ahead. Murderous eyes.

Firetongue returned with a bag slung over his shoulder. He stopped and stared at Josephine then headed back towards the door. Josephine followed him then, turned back to look over Jack. "You follow us. I will kill you. And my father will know why."

Jack held up his hands. "Why would I go after you? But I will be watching you." He held his face. "Damn, was the really necessary? That really hurt."

The two began to leave, but Josephine remembered another member of their party she couldn't afford to forget. She whistled loudly. The hairs stood on end on Jack's head. Ruslting of paws rushed from an unknown source. A hyena bounded into her arms. Jack shook violently, edging from the animal and collapsed on the ground. "Get him away."

"Aw are you afraid of little ol' Chap?"

The Hyena growled at him. Jack scooted back from him, trying to be braver than he appeared. Chap snapped at him, growling lowly, abiding by his mistress's command. Jack shivered and covered his face. "Get him away from me. Ugly mutt." Chap snapped again, edging closer. Jack swat at him.

"Aw, look, he thinks you an ugly mutt, too." Josephine's voice lowered. "Call my hyena a mutt again, and I'll let him at you. Again, follow us, track us…_touch_ _me_ and I'll set him and never look back as you scream in terror." She relished the image. "I'll look forward to it."

Jack stared, fear remaining in them. Then, he did something. He started to laugh, louder than what she thought he would, he laughed and laughed and would not stop. "Aw Josie, you really think he's going to care about what I did? Really? He's not going to give a shit about you because you been replaced." Josephine held Chap's collar, curiously listening. Jack bared his teeth and raised his eyebrows. "That's right. I'm his new heir. Just think, Josephine, there's going to be a new Clown Prince of Crime around here one day. And it's going to be me." He dug his thumb into his heart. He looked her up and down. "Maybe now you'll reconsider my…_advances_." He licked his lower lip.

Josephine struggled with Chap. He was digging into the cement, trying to get to Jack, but not being able to. For a hyena, he could read people's meaning and intentions far better than any psychiatrist.

"I won't deny my father the joy of finding out you're incapability and lies, Jack. When he does know about you, and I suspect he will soon enough, you'll get yours. You were introduced to the happy dungeons, were you not?" She smiled so evilly and spoke so sincerely that Jack glared at her. "You may want to fear that the most, because it's much scarier than fear itself."

The doors opened. Josephine tugged Chap along, scratching the floor, trying to get at Jack. Firetongue followed her.

Her foe stood. "You're never going to come back here, Princess! He's not going to let you after what you've done. I'll make sure of it! I swear it!"

The two left.

Jack pulled out his phone and began dialing, while shaking his head, pulled his shirt away from his body for stress release.

"I have people to watch you, Josephine Quinzel. I'm going to find what makes you tick. Everyone has a secret. Yours is mine. You can count on that."

**A/N: For those of you curious about why I named Joker's daughter Josephine, here's why: At one point, Joker used an alias known as Joseph Kerr. There you have it. I merely made it the feminine, and now you know. Just a bit of behind the writing action for you.**

**P.S. – Servants of the Shang Dynasty were eunuchs. Go figure.**

**P.P.S. – Yes, I named him Chaplin. How could I possibly resist?**

**P.P.P.S. – I love peppermint hot chocolate 'cause I'm too weak to drink coffee. **


	11. A Confession in Mind

**Physics and Economics being done, I say my week is pretty nice so far. Thank you to everyone who is taking time out of their busy lives to reach this far in my story. Hats off to you, my lovelies. Time is nice when you are allowed to lose track of it once in a while. That's why I like writing. Time is relative to only your mind. I've spent many an hour working on this one and had not known the difference. That's how much I love you guys.**

**Anyway, thanks to all who read and review. My stats make me smile after a long day. Go hug someone. Make someone's day. Live long and prosper.**

**P.S. – Hooray for more Josephine/Jonathan interaction again. I know it's been TWO whole chapters. Can you forgive me?**

When they rushed out, Josephine's anger allowed the doors she so hated to bite her palm in the same place as it had earlier that evening. She made a squeak and clenched the hand together trying to hold back any further noise. She hated to show weakness, especially after the ordeals having been through that night but at that moment, she honestly wanted to cry and cradle the hand to her. It hurt so badly.

Chaplin walked beside her, happily wagging his tail and nuzzling her sore hand, which she allowed him to lick. It felt so nice to have her good old pet back. He was the pup of the original hyenas Bud and Lou –well not so much Lou, as Lucy, when they found out he/she was a girl when she gave birth. Chaplin was christened Josephine's, and hers he stayed.

They walked another few blocks. The Narrows was not far. There were no buses out and about tonight.

Firetongue was ahead of her, solemn as always. He was several feet ahead for no practical reason other than to avoid her. He had no idea where Scarecrow's apartment was. He had no right to lead the way. She said nothing about this, but hurried to catch up with him. Trying to calm the waters was a good opportunity to stop all this bad feeling.

"'tongue, the apartment is down another couple of blocks. There's a turn up there."

He kept walking to the beat of his own drum. Was that it? Was he to be that same way throughout her journey? If it was about the damn kiss, he could go to hell and back. She didn't give a damn about Jack, and spat on him not once - but _twice_, whilst in his presence. What else could he ask for in symbols of her revulsion?

"You know, I did say to have an iota of faith in me whilst accompanying me on my trip. It would be nice to extend that pleasure to me now. And know that I don't care one scrap about that son of a bitch." She spat on the ground to prove her point. "Is that for some ungodly reason, the point you wanted me to make, because I'm tired of this silent treatment. It's childish."

A smile cracked over Firetongue's lips, but vanished as it appeared_. I know, but you must agree with me about the henchmen. I have my doubts._

"You're wrong about the henchmen. I know for a fact they've been elsewhere."

He whipped around on her.

_How long have you been in contact with him?_

"Long enough to know him."

Her eyes pierced his. Green and amber in an angry uproar. He sucked in and blew steam, like a smoker exhaling his nightly drag.

"Jack isn't going to win," she said in an attempt to convert the subject. It was a hateful one, but she preferred that to arguing about the professor. She looked to the clouds. Her eyes moved back and forth with uncertainty. "He isn't the heir. It's too soon for that. Maybe very soon he might. Joker is impulsive but not a fool. Jack is too green for such a position." Her gaze dropped. "He can't beat me in experience. I'm the sole proprietor of Joker's lineage. There is nothing that can change that."

He still did not respond, choosing his always silent nature than to expose himself. She didn't expect much response from it. The monologue was more for her own peace of mind.

"Firetongue," he did not turn around. She breathed a troubling sigh, then set her jaw light, eyes piercing ahead as they walked. "Firetongue," she stated again, this time with more force. His walking slowed some, just enough for him to show he was listening. "Thank you…for what you did."

His grip on the strap tightened, turning his knuckles white. He did not face her, perhaps rightly so. She did not feel slighted when the smallest glimpse of an answer did not wash over. Chaplin bounded down the streets, eager for an evening stretch. She walked ahead, guided by only her intuition and faith that the professor was waiting for her.

* * *

><p>The apartment was already crowded with supplies and men when the two broke in. At first, two sweating jerks in their wife beaters stopped them and almost butchered them, but all Josephine had to do was introduce herself and they were on their merry way downstairs.<p>

The steps were creaking as usual. The air was wrought in the odor of men who probably hadn't bathed or thought of a shower in ages. Most of whom were probably unmarried or without a caring lover to tell them otherwise. The smell thinned out when their feet padded across the concrete floor.

The lab was still in its place. Only this time, the professor was storing containers of nitrogen into shipping boxes that were not stamped _Falcone_ all over. Hooray for brilliance. Yet again, the professor knew what he was doing and things were beginning to look up. Well, at least look like they were going according to plan.

However, he was not downstairs as she'd hoped. She asked one man, "where's your boss? I need to talk to him."

The man stared at her, blinking wildly when the notion clicked. "He's…he's up there, in his room."

"Thanks." She said none too excitedly. The man watched them go, no doubt awestruck to have met none other than the Clown Princess of Crime. He set about whispering to his buddies.

The two went upstairs again and to the office, which was closed.

She knocked.

"Get busy and make sure everything's in order you fools. We can't let the bat catch onto us." Came the muffled answer from beyond the wood.

"Bat's a bit tied up at the moment, but never fear, Josephine is here."

The door swung open, revealing her boss in his scarecrow garb as he usually did when around his men, minus the mask. He squinted at her, and eyes lowered to the plants.

"Ah," he took a pot.

"Oh he _ahs_ the plant but not me." She smirked at him, but he didn't respond. She sighed, waiting for his approval of the choice.

Crane took no notice and spun the plant around for inspection. The pot had a large crack in it, but the roots seemed to be still intact. It would suffice. Besides, his assistant did go to considerable trouble to steal from the plant woman. The loyalty was indeed a reward this time, but he was happy to see her back safe and sound, if not a little testy.

"Thank you, Josephine," he glanced back up at her to meet her gaze. "I could not have done this without you."

She shrugged. Her glance followed the men traveling in and out of the apartment. "I see you've held up your end of the bargain."

He was hesitant. "Yes, I have. But," he eyed Firetongue, whose eyes were staring straight into his soul, "who is this?"

"Firetongue. You know him. He's one of my men."

"I thought they were in Blackgate."

"Now they're not."

"There were two."

"Well he's the only one along for the ride. Anymore questions?" Her eyes bore into his, brows furrowed. What had he done? He nodded his head, frowning.

A henchman walked up, "Hey Boss. We done here?"

"Yes, we will leave soon. Josephine," he glanced at her. She did not look at him. He shook his head. "Go and hustle the rest of the help up they all need to be ready to go shortly."

"Yes, master," she set off, 'tongue following closely at her heels, leaving the good doctor feeling even more confused. He didn't like it. But perhaps it was the air she needed. Females needed that sort of thing for health, yes?

_No matter_, he thought, _she will be fine soon_.

Dr. Crane replaced the masked on his head and set out of the apartment, watching Josephine as she barked orders at the unwilling henchmen.

"If you don't hurry up and get the stash in the vans, I'm going to knife you. Now that ain't gonna be a grand thing is it?" She held the object in question out, flipping it in her fingers as a harmless butter knife, spinning it like a baton.

"You don't give the orders around here. The Boss does. You aren't even his bitch." One brave idiot announced quirking an eyebrow at one of his friends, lips turned up in a smug leer. No sooner had he uttered the question than Josephine had launched herself at the man and slit his throat. It was a shallow cut, but one that hurt all the same. As soon as she'd done so, the blood began to trickle down his spongy neck and he gurgled for breath. It was to be a very slow death for the man who couldn't keep his adjectives in line. She leaned in close, so that even in his darkest hour, he and the rest could hear her sermon.

"Now listen here Bucko," she hissed, "I'm not one for speeches but I sure as Hell have one for you. I'm not one for labels, got it?" She grabbed the thinning hair and yanked it, causing more raucous from the bloodthirsty men. "I'm not anyone's bitch. Got it? Not a whore, or a slut or even a lover, eh? Not a girl, not a woman, not even a criminal. I'm my own person. And you? You're nothing to me. You ain't even worth the dirt under these fingernails. See that? Not even a little speck of dust. Look around, look at your mates; they're not even jumping in to save you. Pathetic, eh? Really bad for you. I'd feel sorry but like I said, I'm not one for labels. You're just nobody. As for me, well if there were a label I'd call myself, it would be your murderer," she leaned in so close her breath heated his ear canal, "because that ain't a label. That's a fact." She lifted her knife, but was stopped when a hand held her back.

She froze. Her voice kept its murderous tone. "Let me go."

"No, I think he's had his share. Besides, this fate may be better than the one you were about to give him." Crane gestured to the man wiggling pathetically on the floor. Josephine remained where she was, arm still poised with Crane's hand on her forearm, not quite holding her back, but resting, like a comfort. "No more, Josephine. He's done for." He turned to the crowd. "Enough gawking. You've all seen a dead man before. Now get these vans fired up. We're leaving."

The men looked at the wiggler and back at their boss and decided to shake a leg. They jumped for their seats in the hot vans, buckling up. Soon, the rumble of engines firing up sounded clear around the small dilapidated buildings. No one came out. Anyone who heard such a chorus of vehicles knew they were up to no good and no one came out to see them off. No one that is, except for _one_.

One especially uninvited guest showed up.

She whipped around some of the men, two actually of the thirty under the Scarecrow's employment. They were soon knocked out and sleeping peacefully like grimy little overgrown babies.

Josephine loaded herself into the same van as Crane, seating herself in the back with him, whilst Firetongue took shotgun in another van opposite a nameless henchman.

"Drive," commanded Crane, still masked.

"Yeah Boss," the engine fired up and they were on their way.

No sooner had they started than there was a road block. One of their vans on its side, men under the cloak of night fighting a mysterious perpetrator.

"What the hell? Go around them!"

"There ain't any room boss! I can't get around em.' There's a hold up!"

"Drive you idiot. Let us see what this little disturbance is."

"But boss, I can't –"

_Bang_. Drop

The man slunk into his seat, eyes rolled back, a gorged hole bleeding profusely in his head. Scarecrow did not shutter at the event or sight. Dead men were eaten like feasts by rats in the street. It was a common sight in the Narrows. One may never forget it, but be desensitized whenever they saw a dead body. He shrugged it out of the driver's seat and into the road, opening and shutting the door to the night air.

"Thank you Josephine."

"You're welcome," she replied quickly as the professor took his place as driver.

"Now, let's see what all the commotion's about, shall we?"

The van tore down the road, where the roadblock was. The clouds hung heavily in the streets, blocking views of henchmen being thrown around like bean bags, showing only their silhouettes in the darkness. The fog was not thinning anytime soon and the Scarecrow drove slowly. The monster of a van could barrel down something in his path, but God forbid it be one of his nitrogen tanks. Not good.

Josephine fingered her weapon as the incoherent shouts grew stronger around them. It was chaos. She didn't want to roll down her window in case one henchman was to try to attack for some reason. She couldn't see the danger. She was not in control_. And that was not the violence she liked._

Then! She heard that distinct sound. _Crack_!

"Catwoman," she announced, "she's here, patrolling."

The professor nodded behind his mask. "We will take a detour."

It turned out, the roadblock was nothing but a scuffle of angry henchmen and Catwoman exacting her justice and taking them out one by one with her whip. They didn't stand a chance.

It may have worked out if not for the other six vans being parked in the middle of the street and their occupants either rushing –or dragged – out of their compartment to match the feline fighter. Josephine had to roll her eyes. The evening clouds had lifted; henchmen were all over the place looking up, down and every which ways. The sight was abhorred. They were clueless. Henchmen only came in one flavor: dumb. Oh God, she really wished she could just take them all out right now. Cretins.

"Stop the van; we might have to deal with this personally." She said.

Scarecrow parked the van in three seconds and leapt out; grabbing a small container of some fear gas he'd saved for these types of occasions. It never hurt to be prepared.

He went into the middle of the fray, where some of the men seemed to have calmed down a bit. There was no sign of the cat. He and Josephine scanned for her, but still didn't see. He ordered the men back to their vans –well, the men who were still conscience. Most lay sprawled on the concrete, still as death. Again, Josephine could not contain her eye rolling. Henchmen _were_ a lowly breed.

Only about ten of the original thirty were still able to drive. There were enough to drive the trucks but Scarecrow decided to place all of the cargo into one van and take on three vans. That way, if Catwoman had any notion to steal any, she wouldn't know which to pick. A highway robbery wasn't really her style. Might mess up her pretty little nails. All piled into the three remaining vans. Four each were in the spare vans, two in the same as the cargo alone with Scarecrow and Josephine. No way was the Master of Fear about to let his supplies out of his sight. No way was the Clown Princess of Crime about to lose it for him.

She briefly wondered where Firetongue was. He was not among the dumb. She placed it out of mind. He would find her again.

They left the lot rotting in their graves when the police _–or the rats –_came to get their men. The vans headed down an unmarked alley. Wheels rocked over week's old garbage behind a putrid smelling bar, dumpsters overflowing with the alcohol and peanut shells. Josephine's mouth watered with the scent of vomit and decay. The Narrows was a blackened pit of deadness.

Josephine's fingers kept curled around the knife, waiting any moment when the cat might strike. Yes, she was a friend of her mother's. Yes, she somewhat spoke to her on occasion. Yes, she was someone friendly to her –_on occasion_. But war was war. And she as not about to lose this battle for Professor Crane. She needed to prove herself a bit more. He'd hardly ever seen her in action. If now was the opportunity, now was the opportunity.

The van shuddered more as it began its decent out of the Narrows. For once, Josephine may have felt like she caught a break. But she didn't deny the sense of disappointment. She had wanted to leave Catwoman tied up for the authorities to find. That would have been fun. It was a once in a lifetime event, too. Maybe her father might have even seen it. Jack definitely couldn't do something like that. No! She was thinking about that disgusting pig again. She tried to put him out_. Vacation. That's all I want, vacation. I'll deal with you as soon as I can, you half –witted, bulging son of a bitch –_

"–Boss we got company!"

No sooner had she thought her last profanity about the clown boy than a figure over the rooftops came into view, then vanished. Her insides warmed with adrenaline. Fingers itched around the blade, sharp against her palm. Her stress toll had increased with each hour tonight. The threads protecting her sanity were slipping with each passing moment. She was ready, oh she was ready to kick some ass tonight, and she didn't care whose it was.

"Boss, what you want me to do to the kitty? Run 'er over? Shoot her?"

"Whatever seems necessary. I don't have time for games."

A small ball formed in her stomach. Was he not going to let her have a chance? No, he was going to watch her accomplish something helpful tonight whether he liked it or not. For once, he would see her on the job. She'd be the hero of the hour. Her night has been one fricking problem after the next. Now, it was her turn to fight back. Let's do this.

"I'm going after her if she gets within three yards of this van." She declared. Her eyes bore into the window beside her. Focusing directly on the rooftop where the shadow was spotted. Professor Crane shifted beside her.

"It may not be best to handle it with hand to hand combat at the moment –"

"No, I'm going after her. Come along if you want professor, but I'm tired of sitting by the sidelines tonight. The kitty crossed my line." Josephine exited the van.

Dr. Crane tried to grab hold of her arm but the act was futile. She was too determined. He had to make a choice. He wasn't going to just leave her there, open to the Catwoman. Yes, he knew she was well armed in combat, hearing about the several instances of her own raids and slaughters. But…he couldn't help but worry. It wasn't the sad bastards she was killing that he had pity for it was her; needless to say, the Master of Fear had come to like the girl. Care? Of course. He couldn't prevent it. Two years and this is what naturally happened. He hated it, but it happened. He only hoped that she wouldn't do something stupid. There was a way to make sure of it.

"Park. Get out. We're following her. If she's going to do something reckless, we might as well want to witness it."

* * *

><p>Josephine scuttled over the rooftop like she had the other several times that evening. Her anger only built more and more, coupled with her genetic tendencies to flip out when uncontrolled, it spelled out bad news for kitty cat. She grinned wildly whilst she chased her. The wolf was coming for its prey. Here Kitty Kitty!<p>

Her energy high was at its pinnacle. Delirium must be the word to describe it. Intense, sensational…_insane_. Assignments, assignments, nothing else would matter once she got the cat.

Catwoman wasn't there anymore. She was nothing but a shadow in the night. Josephine should have expected that. She did. It didn't stop her frustration as she bounded over yet another roof, pealing her knife from its sheath, being quiet and lowering onto the ground. Stealth. Her training flooded back: Hunt, knives are your friend, a small cut, it is finished. Soon, she would be here. She knew. Catwoman might retrace her steps to get what she wanted. She didn't give up easily.

Her thoughts were rewarded.

One minute…two minutes…four minutes…eight….and she showed up. Leaning over the ledge gracefully, the cat burglar slipped a slender leg over the niche. Cold air breathed over Josephine as she watched the femme fatale sauntered over the roof and make towards the other side of the roof.

"Evening, Catwoman," said Josephine, easily comforted with her presence, slipping out of her hiding spot.

Selina Kyle stiffened, only for a moment, and then turned on her heel to face Josephine.

"Ah, Josie, so nice to see you out tonight. I have to admit, I didn't think you would be…patrolling this particular area. Speaking of which, why are you?"

Josephine tutted at her, crossing a drunken leg over the over, leaning slightly in her tipsy persona. She smiled widely. "Oh Selina. Tonight was not a good night to work against the Scarecrow."

Catwoman could not hide her surprise. "Why should you care what I have to do with Jonathan Crane?"

"We have a little arrangement. What else do you really need to know? All I know is that you're messing with him and it bothers me. You might want to rethink your strategy. You're not stealing anything from him tonight." Her face hardened into a deep frown, her eyes cold.

"Josephine what are you doing getting involved with that man? I thought your daddy would be angry to know about that."

Josephine remained silent.

"Ah, I see!" Catwoman smirked. "A little job on the side. Mmm, might be a clever idea. Joker doesn't like to keep the same people around all the time, including family. But I would be careful with who you throw your lot in. You might be better off alone." She turned serious. "And you know what he did to you mother."

Yes, like Ivy, Catwoman lived under the illusion that Harley Quinn was under comatose by someone else's hand. A deeper and deeper pit was forming right around her.

"Maybe and maybe not. Maybe my father did it. You never know how things really go on unless you really know, Selina. Like Batman's identity. You'd know a lot about that wouldn't you?" She eyed her mischievously.

Selina only shrugged and started to circle Josephine. "Sometimes things don't need to be mentioned again, do they?"

"That all depends on how this is going to go down. Do you really have to pursue Dr. Crane? What need do you have of his stock?"

"Batman can't do everything on his own. He needs my help all the time. What's a girl to do when her man calls uncle?"

Josephine eyed her. "Nothing but lies tonight, Selina? It's your style, but I would have thought you would tell me the truth, given our history, that is."

Catwoman cocked her head at her and smiled. "Hmm, you do know me. Well, if you want to know the truth: Money. The black market sells anything. But you," she paused for perfect eye contact, "might know about that. All those guns and weapons just disappearing like that? Suspicious, Josephine. Might not be a good idea to do all that for the Joker."

"Since when are you such a critic? I may never have touched the weaponry in the Upperstate division. Ever think to ask me? Might have been another pest looking for a break into fame."

"No one's crazy enough for that besides the Joker. And I think he has enough prominence in Gotham as it is. He has ambition, though. Maybe enough to spill over to you."

"Don't turn this on me. Besides, we're getting off topic. You're going after Professor Crane and now you're going to pay." She revealed her knife.

"Bickering, threatening, taking too long to do anything…my God, you're becoming you're father."

Josephine launched herself at Catwoman. Selina cartwheeled behind her, driving an elbow between her shoulder blades. She cried out, stumbling forward.

"I don't want to do this, Josie."

"Stop calling me that. I'm not a child anymore."

She went again and was dodged, this time; Selina swung a leg at 360, but was caught and thrown a few feet away. She landed in a squatting position. "You're going to regret this."

"No, I don't think I will."

Catwoman defended herself again and again against the eighteen-year-old attacks, not harming her but not allowing harm to come to herself. It was a much more trying activity than she assumed. Joker and Harley had trained her well. She was fit and ready.

When Josephine tried a final hit, Selina captured her in a headlock, not being aggressive but holding her firm. "Stop it. Stop, stay still for a moment, Josephine. I'm going to ask you a question, and you need to answer it."

"I'm not telling you anything. Why should I?"

"Because I'm close to your mother and you may owe me to look out for your best interests. Yes, I'm not the influence that Ivy is, but listen to me. Why do you work for the Scarecrow? What do you have to gain?"

"I have to gain nothing. I have my reasons for everything I do." Josephine triedto tear herself out of grasp, but Selina held tight.

"Why did you go tearing after me like you did? Yes, I watched you while you waited. You aren't as clever as you think sometimes. You have much to learn. You have more to learn about men. They like to control you, warp your emotions. You know they can. You've seen it."

Josephine stopped struggling. She hung there in Catwoman's arms. Hands sleeping on the smooth black latex of her suit. Dr. Crane wasn't her _father_. Not by a long shot.

"Who says he does that to me? He doesn't. Maybe that's why I like him."

"Josephine, I care because you are strong and brilliant in many ways. I can only suppose that you make choices because you think through them. Answer me a question."

"No," Josephine wanted away. She didn't want to be near that woman anymore, she was making her feel uncomfortable. She was right; she wasn't like Ivy at all.

"If you answer me this question, I may not go after you. Now, listen," she pleaded as Josephine continued to struggle. "Answer this one question: Do you love him?"

Josephine took time. The question was so simple but so complicated at the same time. She cared so much for Dr. Crane that if anything ever happened to him, she felt like she would be alone. For the past two years, she worked for him for a reason. He saved her from a terrible fate at Arkham. He must care. He wasn't like her father. He did care. She cared. She might even…

"I don't know. Don't…don't ask me that. I don't want to talk to you anymore." She relaxed in her arms. "Just….leave me alone."

Catwoman was not giving up. She brushed some strand out of her face, trying to be as maternal as possible, which was, in fact, a difficult feat for her. "If you love him, go with him. I'll leave. I'll leave him alone, for good. If he's worth your affection, then I'll go."

Josephine slunk in her arms, wondering whether to cry or scream or do nothing but all she knew was that Dr. Crane had not come and she was glad, but it was also breaking her heart. This strong affection, this liking had changed into something powerful and lasting in her very self. What was wrong with her? Could she just give up and go back to her father? Was it that hard to kill Jack and move on? Couldn't she just leave the professor high and dry as her father did with her mother since she was in the hospital or how she had with so many of her henchmen? What was it that made this man, this academic, brilliant, man so important, so _alive_ in her eyes?

She had no other option. It was there, in her heart. All she had to do was acknowledge it. She took the plunge. She nodded.

"Say it."

"I love him."

"Catwoman released her. "The hearts wants what the heart wants. Believe me."

Josephine backed away from her, confused by her own answer. She had done it, admitted it. Her ultimate feelings. Tonight was a whirlwind of emotion. She looked over the horizon and saw a glint of light. The sunrise came.

When she looked back, Catwoman was gone.

* * *

><p>Josephine returned to the van's set up but what she found was not what she expected at all. Two vans were aflame. Eight of their remaining men were on the ground moaning or completely unconscious. Some had burns across their faces. Two of them stood over a man on the ground although they blocked her view.<p>

Where was the professor?

In a panic, she hurried forward, pushing the two aside to find Jonathan Crane on the ground, mask- less. Hands covered his face, as he told the henchmen to back off.

"Professor it's me." She knelt by his side, trying to pry his hands away from his face, particularly his eyes."Shh," she calmed him. She reveled in this unique ability. The henchmen watched with curiosity. He was like a child, unwilling to let anyone see his wound. She could only pray that it wasn't as bad as his refutations sounded.

"No, I don't want you to see this. Don't –"

But it was too late.

**A/N: So much Rhetoric! Question marks galore! Click the Review Button if you want to tell me what you think. I love ya'll's comments!**


	12. Impulse and a Whistle

**This chapter frustrated me. I am so lucky to have you guys. Thank you! You are always appreciated and encouraged to comment. Yes, you've all been wondering about Firetongue and his antics. All is revealed. Gracious me, onward!**

"Professor! You're face…who did this?"

The skin around his eyes was red, chapped as if raked by fingernails a thousand times…or deeply affected by heat. His eyes were pink, starved from hydration, veins protruding grotesquely, a deep maroon spider web forming over his mildly filmed pupils.

"I don't know," he replaced his hand to its previous position. "Someone jumped me from the shadows. He attacked. There was a great heat surrounding us. It was around me for so long that I…mmm…" he stopped, shivering too much to continue. His skin was paler, almost bluish in color. His symptoms were unknown to her. A great heat?

"_Jonathan_," she breathed.

"I didn't see him." Josephine helped him into a sitting position, leaving the other two behind her. He struggled to face her, but his eyes were off kilter. She writhed internally to meet his gaze. "Josephine," he reached for her, but grabbed empty air. "I can't see you."

"What? No, you have to be able to see me. You can. I'm in front of you."

"I can't…I can't see anything…"

The Clown Princess suppressed a gasp when he closed his eyes. Her anger boiled. Chap whimpered beside her, nuzzling her hurt hand.

"_Him_? You know it was a him?" She turned to the two henchmen standing idly beside. "Did either of the two of you see him? _Hmm_? If you did, answer me!"

The two shuffled slightly, not meeting her gaze. "We can't have seen him. He weren't where I thought he were," answered one.

She looked at him questioningly. "What does that even mean?" She asked none too enthused by his riddles. "I have no use for any of you who speak without sense. Go work for Riddler if that's the way you'll be. I need answers! Did any of you even try to fight him at all, or go to your boss's aide?" She was standing now. "No, I don't think you did! Look at the state of him." She gestured to the sick body lying there. "What do you do to get your money?"

"We didn't have time to do anything! He stood there over the professor after he torched the others, creating this…heat wave. And when you arrived, he ran off quick as that. There was no time at all to do anything about it."

Josephine decided to let the argument relax, and instead turned her attentions to her dear professor, lying helpless on the ground. "Dr. Crane, can you hear me? Don't go to sleep. You need to stay awake now." She turned back to the henchmen. "Can I trust you to look after him while I search the area a bit? I don't want him hurt again, understand?" She flipped out her knife. "Do you need incentive?"

The two shook their heads fervently. "No, no, we're fine the way we are." They came nearer avoiding her touch when she got up and walked past them, giving them the evil eye as she passed by. She could not deny the joy of seeing the shiver that ran down the spine of one.

Josephine began walking down the street, eyes wide for anything remotely resembling a flame. Even if it was Firetongue, she couldn't understand why he would commit such an act. He knew the professor was good to her. She told him that. Was her word not good enough for him? Should he deny her in pursuit of his own intuitions? Better yet, what would she do when she found him? It was all so problematic.

She came upon a dumpster in an alley. Beside it, the culprit. A quiet little fire breather looked up at her with pleading amber eyes. The small scar slits around his eyes were more pronounced with the glowing of the irises.

"Hi Firetongue," she said in a mock little girl voice. Her smile stretched across her cheeks. "What're you doing here?"

A strain of emotions crossed her mind: anger, frustration, sadness, anger again, disappointment, weakness, anger…

She approached him. He stood. His mouth was still, eyes pink as if ready to cry, like a child. A finger tugged at a rag hanging off his hand-me-down clothing.

Josephine stared strongly and knew. She _knew_. She shivered and shook uncontrollably. Her breathing was heavy as she delivered a harsh slap across his face. He did nothing in return. The sting settled on the weathered skin. Then she provided another on the opposite. A struggled inhale through his nostrils suggested the strength of emotion boiling inside. How fervently he struggled to prevent retaliation. He might even sob. She didn't care. She delved another and another until his face was in bruised.

This time, she hit him in the chest and kept pushing him away until he hit the brick wall behind. The silent beating went on.

"Why did you hurt him?" She cried, still giving him the punishment. "Why, why, why?"

_I thought he hurt you_! His eyes implored.

He stopped her hands and held them tight.

_I saw him and didn't see you. In all that commotion before. I didn't know what became of you. He might have dropped you off somewhere…in a dumpster! I lost control and attacked him._

"It's not your place to assume such things about him! He could be blind _forever_!"

_I thought you were _dead_!_

He released his grip.

She hit him one last time in the chest –weakly. She stalked away from him.

"He would never hurt me." She stated. "Know that. _Ever_."

She breathed in deeply, nerves shattered. Her body felt cold against the soft new morning breeze. She felt weak. Too much emotion for one night. Josephine straightened her coat, and rolled her neck diplomatically, trying to pull herself together. She started walking away to the van. The men would be wondering where she would be.

"I was following Catwoman. She destroyed all those vans in pursuits of us. _That's_ why I wasn't among the rest."

Starting off, there were footsteps behind her. She did not look back.

"If you follow me this time, you not only follow me –but him –understand?"

She felt his eyes bear into the back of her head. She marched with more force.

"But know this, you don't have my forgiveness."

* * *

><p>Vrroooommmm….purred the van. Trees all around passed as they headed out for the summer places Gotham's elite traveled. The December months knew no one, making it the ideal hid out. The professor was a genius in his way. His head lay against her shoulder as the van crawled across the countryside. She pet him thoughtfully as he slept, eyes covered by a wrap he tore from his costume. His breathing was deep and soothing. Josephine found herself inhaling in the same rhythm, feeling closer to him. Her heart was full as her fingers thread themselves in his hair. The slender pale digits vanished through the auburn field. She sighed being this close, taking care of him. Her repressed feelings were able to come through the tiny slit through her austere façade. All the years she never cared and now she could do as little as feel his skin against hers and do nothing but wish he would waken and tell him all she felt. How she wished she could do that.<p>

Alas, she would not. Not in this situation.

Chap was stretched out on the floor in front of her, snoring. All she could see was brown and black spots. Soft fur warmed her feet.

"Do you know where the hideout is?" She asked the driver.

"Just about."

She relaxed in her seat. "Did he tell you?"

"I saw the map to it. We're going in the right direction."

She hoped so. They had been driving about an hour now. It should not be too far away. Apparently it was just on the outskirts of the city. Somewhere in the woods. _Good,_ she thought, _away from everything for once. A break that doesn't include Arkham._

One thing she did wish for was a suitable vacation and a bottle of the finest merlot she could find. Perhaps this place they were in going to would have a decent supply of alcohol for the aching body as for the heart. If not, she would make do with bleach.

The black van crawled across the country with two henchmen in the front, she and Jonathan in the middle seats, and…Firetongue in the back with the cargo. She tilted slightly to view him sitting on a box staring out the window, head drooping in the guilt fashion. She could not feel much pity for him. She should, she knew, but couldn't. He hurt the professor. He may never see again. He did nothing wrong. Why did Firetongue have to be so…impulsive sometimes. Now wasn't that the pot calling the kettle black. She did act that way most times. But he should have known the professor would have never done anything to hurt her, ever. He cared, she thought, enough for her to tell her to accompany him, to wait on her, cook for him, to teach and stay by his side and let her into his world and….

She paused. He did…care. He accomplished what other rogues never really did. He justly sought out those who tortured him in his youth and hurt them until they bled or died in the attempt. He was a hero in her eyes, if not a little bit of an idol. All the same, she felt so strongly for him, she didn't know what else to do about it but sit there with him. Mulling it all over.

She owed her life to him. He was the reason she was alive right now, thinking about him. He saved her. It was an act not many could attest to. Besides Batman, of course. He never counted. He saved everyone. A rogue saves only who he chooses.

And he chose Josephine Quinzel.

* * *

><p><em>Two years ago…<em>

Arkham Asylum was not a spook house. It was not an amusement park. It was not ever a mental hospital.

Arkham Asylum was nothing less than a prison for the misfortunate mentally insane.

That was the recurrent thought of all rogues who passed through the doors of the darkened place, its walls whitewashed until it reached bleached potential, ceilings yellow from years of neglect, sometimes bent under weight of patients escaping though the vents. Perhaps even a time or two with Batman up there, or even one of his brats.

No, Arkham was not a good place for children or adults. It was never a place to call one's home. But Josephine Quinzel had called it everything she ever thought of and more. And, she was about to give it a new name.

Sixteen was not an age where one would think a person would be locked away or more importantly, in a cell at AA. Josephine had been there, under circumstances grim and gory in an out for over half of her life. She wasn't there for her younger years. Foster care was in that equation, but soon, the homes of her benefactors could not repress the powerful emotions of discord running deep within the veins of the Joker's spawn. Since the Howard incident, she was confined to a cell for each of her misgivings. She was given nothing less than the treatment of a terrible, violent tempered inmate who deserved the ill begotten "treatments" delved by none other than the new doctor there: Professor Hugo Strange.

She was a favorite of his. By favorite, she meant he liked her to pick on the best. If it wasn't a senseless lunatic who couldn't spell his own name that his was electrocuting or sticking needles in, it was Josephine Quinzel.

Why was this man so horrid a person as to treat a patient like this at an asylum? Because he himself, was insane.

It was the only other reason Josephine could come up with as she sat, terrified in his office, quivering under his hands as he hooked the wiring into her, not bothering with any anesthesia and setting fire to the lightning in her body. White hot pains circulated her limbs and muscles as she writhed in the punishment whilst Strange lectured her on what a depraved and undesirable creature she was. How she was such a misgiving to the world, being the daughter of a madman and his madwoman. She was a creature that deserved nothing less than to rot in the dungeons of the asylum.

"Cry for me little clown. Cry out and say what a bad little girl you've been."

"Please stop, please…ah! Please! _It hurts so bad…"_

"No, I will never stop, Josephine Quinzel. No until you've learned your lesson. It's a long one today.

Josephine had no choice but to bear his punishments when she arrived. It was not only then needles that stuck, but the whistle. The Goddamned whistle that only reached octaves dogs could hear. That, and Josephine. Due to her genetic madness, she was left with the handicap of having a sensitive ear, but not in the beneficial. THe high whisper of the whistle could send her in a migraine that made her collapse on the floor, writing in mental agony. THe Professor enjoyed blowing it lightly, and building more and more tension, teasing and taunting her ears until she felt like she was about the bleed. What was worse: it left no mark. The pain was merely internal, leaving no burns, or scraps across her pale form to show for any evidence.

It was not the food nor the sanitation she loathed more than Hugo Strange and his needles. She couldn't tell her father. She tried, but Strange only warned her that if she told a single soul what he did to her in his office, that he would kill her mother and make it look like suicide. She would not have taken the threat so seriously if Harley Quinn had not been incarcerated in the same period. She was helpless against him.

Once, just once, she almost succeeded into destroying the device he used: a portable electroshock box that hooked up directly to a patient. It was stored in his closet while visited by his superiors.

Josephine managed to happen into his office during a breakout, searching for the wretched thing during her precious escape minutes. She could not find it. When she did, the doorknob turned and she could only slam the closet door and burst through the window, heart beating out of her chest while doing so. She broke: a leg, an elbow, lacerated her neck (via trees), and broke her wrist. The doctors said she was lucky she was alive. That was the last time she ever tried to foil Strange's plots.

That is, until Professor Crane gave her mercy.

A sixteen-year-old Josephine Quinzel sat behind a Plexiglas wall, head against the cold material, thinking of how to avoid her appointment that day. Her neighbors were the usual, but without Two-Face. He was out and about Gotham, terrorizing it with his duality treatment. Firefly was gone too, leaving her with Dr. Jonathan Crane as a companion.

Unbeknownst to her, he watched as she leaned against the glass, face absorbing the coolant. Her eyes were closed, trying to form some sense of peace. It was never too near. He watched as her eyes moved behind the lids, swirling in attempt to find some sort of secret place within her mind that was not filled with laughter. Her father got her into this mess. Now she would have to face the creature alone.

Jonathan Crane was first to speak.

"We are alone."

Josephine did not open her eyes, but nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."

He wet his lips, nodding. "Yes."

"I suppose our neighbors were much cleverer than we in their exploits."

He stiffened at the comment. Did she dare challenge the Master of Fear? His posture relaxed when she cracked open an eye and half smiled. If the clown had made such a remark, Crane would have strangled him, but his daughter's smile was not one of mirth. It was of play.

Her eyes closed as she tried to sit up, quaking as she did, stretching her arms. A yawn escaped. "Mmm…Professor Crane, do you ever sleep in these cells? I certainly never found any comfort in them. The beds are too hard. Would you say so?"

The professor was a bit startled by how quickly she responded to his attempt at small talk. Harley Quinn was her mother. She must have inherited some friendliness. If Jervis were here, he would applaud him, after always pestering him that he was so anti-social. When the man in question never spoke to the girl he adored and landed himself in the darkest of asylums. But he wasn't here now.

"Like a rock." He edged a bit closer to the glass to view her properly. She was older than he thought, eyes bright with excitement, and dressed in an orange Arkham jumpsuit. Her skin was like her father's: bone pale. Since her incarceration, her vein bulged from her skin more, leading him to believe she was sickly.

Again, she sighed with boredom. "Professor, how do you survive here? It takes a toll out on me… but you mustn't repeat that."

He smiled to himself. No he wouldn't. He was still agitated by how he couldn't put a finger on how she affected him. It was like everything she said made him melt away. His anger felt like nothing. It was very strange indeed. "I survive only due to my mental strength and ability to keep to myself." How ironic both phrases were. "There is nothing else to do but stare at a wall, but I look to the greater matters, like my plans for the future."

"What are your plans? I don't mean to pry, but there is nothing else to do here." Her voice was sincere. He couldn't prevent the anxiety with it. She was the clown's daughter. She might –no, would –tell him about whatever he said. He wasn't about to fall into some sort of trap. He was interrupted with a quip.

"I know what you're thinking. 'Josephine Quinzel, who would tell her anything?' I don't blame you. But I do admit that I won't remember a thing. I'm so chalked up on medication, I feel like sleeping for a thousand years. Might be nice to, too."

Against his better judgment, he relented, regaling stories of the news and his accomplishments in the past years. His television appearances, time at Gotham University as a professor, even as the Arkham Asylum director. All were his happier times. Now, he was pushed and prodded like a lab rat, in the very institution he helped to found such a tremendous notoriety for. Forced to eat slivers of just deserts, he hated the lot of his colleagues and wanted to kill them. He told her so. She nodded sympathetically. A good listener. It was rare in this strange place.

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss while we're here?"

She yawned again. He didn't know how much time had passed by. Many an hour he would suspect. They talked about a variety of subjects. Much as he hated to admit it, he enjoyed their conversations. Tetch was usually babbling about something not so important to him: Lewis Carroll. But this girl, this child, seemed to understand. It was wondrous.

This type of meeting occurred over the next couple of months whenever they joined incarceration together. They would update each other on the events, and Josephine would even venture to inquire about his experiments and the chemistry behind it. She was truly fascinated. Her interest delighted him again, had he mentioned how excited he was that another shared a common interest.

One had once shared that, but she had diminished his heart and dismissed him as a lunatic. His lingering feelings –rather, broken pride –would not allow him that mistake again. But an idea flickered into his mind, but it was too much for him to think. Josephine may not ever agree to something such as that.

One afternoon, there was an instant where Josephine was being tugged away against her will, which was a common sight amongst the rogues. She bit the guard and he called out, "get her, get her! The brat bit me! I'm bleeding! Gouge out her eyes if you can!"

More guards held her as they removed her from her cell, teething on their arm, and trying to break anything she got her hands on. Dr. Crane was more than attentive during this. Apparently, she was on her trip to her doctor. A Professor Hugo Strange. Nobody he really knew. There were rumors, mind you. Everyone knew the rumors, but he believed them false. It was idiotic to believe everything. However, he kept an eye out for this Hugo Strange.

"Let me go! I swear to you I'm going. Unhand me now!"

"Calm down little clown, you little dirty imp. Get off the floor now! Do as I say. The Doc wants you to go to his office now. Time for your lesson."

"No!" She screamed, more desperately than any other inmate had ever screamed. Its pitch unsettled the professor and his stood, hands pressed against the slick, cool glass.

"Stop handling her like that! She doesn't want to go. Tell the doctor to come another time."

"Hey Professor you're in the Looney bin now, so don't be barking orders at me. She's got a schedule. She knows it and is going to abide by it, even if I have to tear each little hair off your head to make you move!" He directed himself and grabbed Josephine's hair, sending her tumbling to the ground. She moaned. A hand threaded through her brown locks, massaging the sore roots.

Something boiled inside the professor that could not be suppressed. "Get her off the floor and treat her better you idiots. She isn't a doll you can play with. She is a human being!"

"Ooh, listen to the ickle scarecrows' giving us speeches about humanity. What? Got a little crush on the urchin? Aw, you know that's probably illegal, but with you crazies, it's as normal as incest."

The professor pounded against the glass, accomplishing nothing but sending a bolt of pain up his arm. He winced only slightly. Too angered to notice. If only he could break through the glass and get to the guard, he would, oh he would…wait, why would he react so?

"Heh heh, look at the professor. He's so lost in his little mind he can't even think for himself. These crazies, you know, got to defend yourself against them, or else they'll jump you in the shadows. Aw professor, that's not a nice thing to think about the little clown. She's only a baby. She isn't too young for me though." He made a crude gesture with his hand.

Dr. Crane sprang up, both arms slamming into the glass, an expression of terror inducing anger exploded all over his face.

"DON'T YOU EVER SPEAK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT YOU LOW, CRASS HEATHENS! MAY YOU ROT IN HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY! I'M COMING AFTER YOU WHEN I BREAK OUT!"

The guards stopped and stared at him. One was utterly wet with urine. The others stared fearfully at the famed Master of Fear. Well, except for the one.

"God, Professor, don't give me a heart attack next time, right?"

Professor Crane kept beating on the glass, fists bleeding from the burst veins as they left, still shouting at them.

"WHEN I GET OUT, YOU ARE FIRST TO GO! DO YOU HEAR ME? THE FIRST TO BE INDUCTED INTO SCARECROW'S WORLD OF FEAR!"

The guard only laughed loudly as they dragged Josephine down the halls. The others simply tried to keep their bladders from exploding her crying. The one who peed himself walked away disgracefully in search on more pants.

When she returned to him, she was nothing but a doll collapsed under the pressures of psychological analysis. Completely unconscious, they dumped her on her cot, locked the cell, and left.

Jonathan edged closer to her cells. It was diagonal and he could not see her very well, although he wanted to so badly. She was not well.

"Josephine," he called. No answer. "Josephine?"

She moved only slightly, adjusting her drooping head in his direction. Her face had marking beyond an average prison sickness. It was pure fatigue and pain. She was tired from something. Her lack of answering worried him. She always answered him. What happened in that room? If the rumors were right, what had that doctor done?

"Josephine, answer me, are you safe here? What happened with your doctor? Did he do something?"

The very words made him sick. The thought of someone doing something to hurt her like that. "Josephine!"

"Pipe down Professor, or else you'll get the Taser. You want the Taser!" said a guard.

Dr. Crane sat back on his cot, eyes fixated on the broken creature in its cell. Something had happened in there. He didn't know what, but he would find out. And if it was real…Strange would need God more than any other man.

That evening, he broke from his cell, bribing one of the kinder, dumber guards. He worked his way down the hallways. Unbeknownst to Josephine, he searched through Strange's quarters, trying to find some evidence. There was little of anything that could incriminate the man. Everything was heavily ordered and looked after. To his dismay, the professor left the office, but he managed to grab his scarecrow costume from the storage rooms. He planned instead to give his fellow professor a taste of his own medicine. He returned the room and hid until morning.

When Josephine awoke, she heard screams of guards to retain the scarecrow. "He had escaped!" "Professor Strange was in trouble!" "He's been struck with fear toxin!"

She edged out of her bed to see two sets of guards hauling in the thin, wild form of Scarecrow, screaming obscurities at the guards as they threw him into his cell.

The bigger one leaned to the glass once the door was properly shut tight. "Listen, Professor, what you've done is something very naughty. Now, if you apologize to me about the other day, maybe I can work something out with the other guards and help you out. Maybe." He winked like slime. "And if you don't," his voice went dark, "I'm going to let the electrocution take place all on its own. You'll get yours professor."

The professor motioned him closer. The snarky young man leaned in, as if to hear the final confession. Scarecrow's stitched lips reached the glass and whispered with the grim hoarseness of the grim reaper.

"You think I won't do what I promise? You fool. My word is my bond. Whatever comes to me will be worth hearing the screams of hosanna to the almighty Master of Fear!" He broke off into mad laughter which the guard spat on. He turned to his fellow guards.

"Tell the doctors they may do whatever they like to him. Whatever punishment should be decided by…the victim himself." He grinned, leaving. As he did, he winked at Josephine, who shirked away with a glare of her own.

Nearing the glass, she felt something in her heart as the professor slouched against the glass, breathing deeply.

_Oh, professor, what have they done to you? What have you done to him? Why do it?_

It was then the epiphany came.

She licked her lips, making a silent vow inside that she made fully well to obey. To someone so willing to stand against that man as Strange for whatever reason, she would stand by his side and help if, if only for a time. It would be so.

That evening, Josephine received a message through a corrupt guard that Joker had given her the okay for a breakout. She would be in Gotham in her bed at their current hideout. Finally, a comfortable place she could feel better about. Perhaps, she would even have the time to better train her new men. They were still very green from their time at the circus. But a bed and a homey sanctuary was something she longed for…

The professor. She stopped in front of his cell. He was asleep in his cot, without his mask. The orderlies had taken away his clothing and replaced it with the usual jumpsuit. It made him look all the frailer.

"Professor?" She whispered, careful that the other guards could not hear. The corrupt ones had made sure to stay off her hall to allow a safe escape. It was thoughtful of her father and to think she wouldn't have to wash blood off her clothes once back at the hideout.

"Professor? Please wake up, it's me."

He turned in his bed, face confused by the intrusion at such an hour. He was more confused when he saw that it was Josephine at the glass, free. He stood, walking sleepily to the glass, watching her from the other side. "Josephine, what are you doing out-"

"-my father made arrangements for me. I'm going to leave this place and not come back for as long as possible. I never want back here again. But," she paused, looking down. When she gazed back up, it was into the doctor's brown eyes, still weary from his beatings. She placed a hand on the glass. "I don't want to leave you."

The shock that followed was expected. She took it as a compliment. It was the truth. She didn't want to leave without him, even thought she would have to. "Professor, since I'm going to have to leave you, I want to say something before I do. About Strange-"

"-he isn't a problem anymore, at least, for a time. He may be back sooner than I hope. Although I did give him a strong test of toxin."

She couldn't hold back a smile. "Thank you, Professor, for what you did. You don't know how much I really wanted to do that myself. But knowing what you're capable of, I'm sure it was equal to it."

Now he was smiling, though unknown why. He found himself placing a hand on the spot with hers. He stared at it, speculating what his Ego was trying to tell him. "It was…nothing."

"But it wasn't." Her smile left and was replaced with an earnest expression. "There was something else I need to tell you, or ask you, that is." She checked down the hall for any eavesdroppers. When satisfied, she continued. "It is something my father should never know. If he did, it would be horrible for all parties involved."

He listened intently.

"I want to thank you for what you did with an act of my own. You told me about your experiments, about the chemistry of them, your work and life. I…want to aide you, if you'll have me." Her eyes were full in longing. "Please don't deny me the opportunity to help you. It is my wish."

He was wordless. The Clown Princess of Crime wanted to help him? He had spoken to her for months and could not decide on falsehood. She was very heartfelt in what she told him. He felt troubled by allowing another into his work. What would that mean? What would it signify? The work would go much faster with an assistant. She knew basics of particles and elements. Why should she not be a good, if not the best, person for the position? He was unaware if he completely trusted her. But he did a little, and that might grow over time.

He nodded at her. "Yes, you may be my assistant, Josephine."

She smiled quickly and looked to her side when she heard a _clank_.

"You must remember not to breathe of word about this to anyone. If my father knew," she whispered, he expected she would be ashamed and thought of as a wily daughter sowing her wild oats elsewhere as well as her loyalties. What she said next shocked him. "He would kill you, or worse, hurt you to the point that you wished for death."

Her voice caught only for a moment, just enough to give her true emotion away. She was not lying about either.

"I agree, Josephine, only don't let Tetch know about it either. He will pummel me for details about a supposed relationship."

She smiled again. She breathed a sigh of relief. "You have my word, professor." Her gaze followed down the hall where voices were starting. "Professor, I need to go." Her hand lingered there for a moment whilst the two stared at the gesture. "Please, remember me. I'm so sorry I can't break you out too but-"

"-of course, you have other worries. Go, go."

"Thank you again professor." She removed her hand to leave but halted. She stepped forward, leaning forward a bit (she was taller than he thought) and kissed the glass where his cheek would be.

Before a blush could creep up, she backed away and ran down the hall.

And so the career between Jonathan Crane and Josephine Quinzel began.


	13. Forgiven but not Forgotten

**Greetings all! Thank you to my lovely reviewers again for being so faithful to the project. I'm going to PM you soon, Life's been busy and I haven't been very good about personall thanking you guys this past week. I will do that soon. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.**

**P.S. - Anyone who's been to my profile has probably seen the poll I made. If you haven't, there's a favorite orignal character poll for White Veil up there that you can vote for. It's all for fun, so just click your favorite:)**

The van pulled up to the location which included a cottage and something resembling a storage house in the back. Josephine was skeptical as the van stopped on the country road. Thickets surrounded the house, woven in the heath along the trees. It was a thin forest. She barely noticed it as they passed through the city limits and into the mild wilderness. It was not much, but it was worth the trip. Anything was worth getting out of Gotham.

Chap leapt out of the van, grateful for some exercise. He bounded up to the house and began running all through the grass, snuffling and rubbing all in it.

Josephine enlisted the henchmen to help her get the professor out of the car. He was heavy; naturally, she couldn't carry him to the location on her own. As they carried the professor into the house, Josephine stood back and looked over the house. It was an abandoned and needed some work done. Obviously no one had lived here for a while. No doubt it wasn't a decrepit uninhabitable place. Maybe a couple of years had gone by without residence. Ivy grew over the house's walls, hiding the cracks in the white brick. The sturdy structure was the only reason the place had not crumbled under weather. There was a serious overgrowth of flora everywhere. Aunt Ivy would be happy here.

She breathed in the airs. For once it wasn't full of city smog. No garbage, no screaming, nothing unwanted…just the great outdoors and a cottage to break in. She found herself smiling. A bird called overhead. That was another thing –_no unwanted Birds._

"Good job getting here, boys. You might actually be useful at times." She said once the men returned from the house.

"I put 'im upstairs in one of the bedrooms. There are three. I guess you can take the other."

"And we'll flip for the other." The second henchmen said, grinning at his partner.

Josephine smiled mockingly. "No, you won't. The professor will need a second room to have an office, remember?"

They looked to each other. "Then where're we supposed to sleep?"

"Downstairs on couches. What did you think?"

They grumbled to one another. The second looked at Firetongue. "What about him? What's he going to do?"

"Want me to shoot him?" The other said.

"He's staying somewhere. I haven't decided where."

"Why can't he stay on the couch? After all, he's the one that caused the boss this mess. We could put him in the woods and leave him there."

As temping as the idea was, Josephine rejected the idea of placing Firetongue out there. The basement would do him the better. He could guard the supplies whilst the two idiots would guard the house. She was between a rock and a hard place.

"You two go and see to that all the toxin gets to the lower level. I'll see to him." Firetongue did not look at her, but remained standing off center. His eyes averted.

The two dopey henchmen carried boxes upon boxes to the house. Josephine sauntered up to him. Her lip protruding. "Well, here we are then." Her face blank, cold. "You say you want to help me and by association, the professor?" she clicked her tongue. "Well, you'll guard the toxin and chemicals to make more toxins."

_Is that his order?_

"That is my order. Is that sufficient for you?"

He stared at her without answering. She looked him up and down, then started for the house.

His gaze bore into her head. He was sending some kind of message, though without a face to match it with, it was hopeless to decipher.

Is that what you really want?

"Is what I want for you to guard the chemicals and for myself to see to my boss? At the moment yes."

That's not what I mean and you know it.

"Firetongue, at the moment, I'm trying to keep myself from taking my knife and sticking it straight into your heart because you might have seriously damaged a man I care strongly for. What I want is for everybody to do as I say so that I can look after him, because at the moment, I'm at my _wit's_ _end_." Spittle flew out her mouth at the last. A stare down engaged. Neither budged from their spots. Although, Firetongue seemed to be getting closer and closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. His eyes softened in the morning light. As he watched, her hardened face grew into something softer as well, but not happy. She seemed to question the whole situation. Slowly, her eyes dampened, the corners of her mouth sunk deeper into a depression uncharacteristic of her. Her form broke down, allowing her to sob quietly while he took her in his arms. She clung to him as nothing had occurred. All emotional buildup from the past evening's events just overflowed her cup. Nothing satisfied her more than to hug something and let it all out.

He held her there. One hand fixed into her mussed brown hair, the other around her back, rubbing out all the kinks in her muscles. Her sobs dissipated into heaving sighs.

"I know you were only trying to protect me," she said between sniffles. Her face buried in his shoulder. "But why did you have to hurt him so badly?" Another choked sob broke out.

Firetongue closed his eyes, knowing the pleasure from holding her was ruined because of his impulsiveness. It was his punishment. But he did wish she would take the blade and end his suffering. Then, he would be away from her and the professor, whom she held so dear.

Chap rubbed against her leg. Prickly spurs stuck her but she smiled. At least he was certainly happy. His tongue lolled out and he yipped in play.

Eventually, she released him, drying her eyes on her coat. She sniffled loudly. When the two turned around, the henchmen were there staring. One had an awkward expression, the other a smirk.

"So you're two timing the professor then?"

"What, never seen a girl hug her brother before?"

The two stood agape. "You don't have a brother." He turned to his friend. "Does she?"

"You don't have evidence against it." Chap put his paws on Firetongue's chest, wagging his tail. He pet his head attentively. "And I don't like labels, _remember_?" She stared down the two.

With that, she hurried into the house. "Finish getting the stuff in. Then, get to the woods and gather some firewood. Firetongue's going to need a lot to burn off to keep us warm tonight."

She disappeared into the house.

* * *

><p>The professor was laid out in what could be called the Master Bedroom. It was a double bed –a Queen in fact –and was stuffed in Downey feathers. It looked as though he had been dropped and left on the bed without much care, as he had. Josephine could do nothing more than roll her eyes. The men really were useless. They couldn't even tuck a man in his own bed.<p>

She sat by his side, careful not to touch him so he may not cry out. "Professor, can you hear me? It's Josephine."

He groaned, parched lips opened. "Is there…water?"

Josephine mentally slapped herself. Of course! Hydration would be lovely for a patient in care.

She ran off to the bathroom and found the tap to be in perfect shape, luckily. There were some drinking glasses left. Not caring about sanitation, she filled one and brought it back into the room. Her arm went behind his head and propped him up so that he could sip without choking. He drank little and relaxed in her embrace. He coughed some.

"Mmm…that's enough."

She put the water glass on the bedside table. Most of the room was wood, either oak or pine or whatever else one put into a cottage in the woods. It smelled nice, though. It wasn't as bad as it seemed at first.

"Professor, can I get you anything else? Some food, maybe? Are you hungry?"

"N-n-no…I need to rest. I'm so cold."

Josephine was anxious about him. His sickness was something strange. She hadn't seen it before on anyone she knew. From the corner, she spied Firetongue walk into the room. He hung in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. His face was blank. She motioned for him to come nearer.

"'tongue, I don't know what he has. His symptoms aren't anything I've seen before."

He hung his head, ashamed.

_It is hyperthermia. It happened before. I did it again._

"You can give someone a sickness?" She gazed wondrously at him. "How can you…never mind, can you help him? What does he need?"

_He needs a fan and water. Some Aspirin will help keep his blood pressure up._

"I think we have some Aspirin." She made to stand. "I'll go get you some-"

But she was pulled back onto the bed. Her head lay on his chest. She sat up.

"No…I want you here…with me. I don't want to be alone."

Josephine looked to Firetongue. "Will you go get some medicine for him?"

He nodded. He backed out of the room.

Josephine turned back to her patient. Her hand found his and began to rub it affectionately. "You're going to be well. I don't think hyperthermia kills, you know. I'm going to stay right here, okay?"

"Yes, stay there…" he lolled off to sleep, his voice growing lighter as he slipped away.

Firetongue came back with medicine. Josephine administered it with the glass of water. "Professor, you have to wake up. Please, you have to take this." She rubbed his chest, trying to get him conscience enough to be able to swallow. She couldn't have him choking there. Brown eyes slit open. Lips parted for more hydration. Josephine slipped an Aspirin in and held the water up. She drank plentifully. "Good, Professor. Very good. Now you can sleep."

Dr. Crane started to nod off again. Josephine stood and went next to Firetongue. She heaved a sigh, and soon, a yawn. "Mmm…I'm sorry. I'm so tired. I didn't sleep at all."

_Go sleep. I will look after him. _

"No, I promised to stay with him and I will. I just, need to make myself comfortable in the room. Maybe a chair might suffice."

_Josephine, you must sleep. You can barely stand. Please…rest for a while._

Josephine thought to reconsider, but decided against it. "No, I'm going to stay in here. Wait, wait, before you give me that look again, remember that I can take care of myself. Okay? I can sit by his side. At least now he's asleep. I can sleep too. I can take care of myself."

_Who will take care of you?_

He smiled without teeth. He bobbed his head as a goodnight and started for the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

_The basement. I still have a debt to pay._

* * *

><p><em>Three days later…<em>

Josephine was Professor Crane's caregiver from then one. She split her time as his aide and primary chemist in making more formula. Downstairs in the basement, there was an array of boxes containing the chemicals they brought from their travels. The dusty glass and bottles used for holding fermented toxin put a damper on the atmosphere of the basement. It could have been a tidier place used for something homier but that was not the objective. Josephine was disappointed it looked nothing like the lab in the apartment. Dr. Crane had done such a good job building that lab. This one was nothing like it, - an indoor science shanty.

She far more enjoyed her time spent with Dr. Crane.

Firetongue's knowledge of hyperthermia was helpful in giving the professor the proper care he needed. He managed to find a rusted fan in the barn outside. Josephine got it working again. The men hauled it upstairs to the bedroom where it stood in the corner as a primary cooling agent for him.

It did turn chilly in there. Josephine took to wearing her coat whenever she sat by his side. Mostly this was in the evening when it was cold and lonely in the basement. She came up and visited with the professor who was awake most of the time. He could move okay, but he was still blind and stayed bedridden. She supposed he would walk in a few days when he felt like it. At the moment, he could not help with the chemicals but give her instructions on what to do.

However, he had not gained his sight again.

To their happiness, hyperthermia did not cause permanent blindness. It may last for a few weeks or days. No one could tell how far. No doctor administered. All they could do was wait. But, he was in good care, thus far.

Josephine slept in her room at night. But the third night she decided different.

It was about midnight. The men were downstairs keeping watch. They discovered alcohol in a cabinet in the kitchen and set about to finish it all. Josephine managed to snatch a bottle of merlot from the stock. She could not hide her surprise at how much the owners left behind. From their arrival, they discovered nothing but a barren house with little utilities other than running water and blankets. What to their wandering eyes did appear, but a chest of alcohol also came with it. Some canned goods also survived and Josephine kept a ration on it so the gorillas downstairs wouldn't eat all of it.

Tonight, a merlot with between two people seemed like a fantastic way to share the bother of the situation.

Josephine crept into the professor's room fully prepared to rouse him from slumber. She leaned against the door post, wine in one hand, two glasses dangling from her fingers in the other. The professor was not asleep, but staring into darkness. Her seductive pose was for naught.

"Ahem, you awake Professor?"

"Yes, I am."

"I brought a little cheering up for us. I rescued it from the animals downstairs. I know that you would be able to appreciate it." She walked to his bedside and set the glasses down. She removed a bottle opener from her blouse and twisted out the cork.

_Pop!_

Foam spewed over the cylindrical glass. A quiet hiss hushed through the blackened room.

"And how did this rescue proceed? I'm curious."

Josephine smirked to herself. "I threatened with first taste of toxin and if it was ready, I would use my knife to carve their initials."

"Ah, I know that sound." Said Crane. He smiled.

"Oh yes." Josephine wiped off the additional spillage and sucked it off her finger. It made a loud smack when she did so. "It's about time we properly christened the place."

"Josephine don't tease me. I can't have that now."

"Oh I know, professor. That's what makes this seduction so much more exciting." She poured the maroon liquid into a crystal glass and fit his hands around it. When satisfied with the grip, he lifted it to his lips and drank.

He swished the substance around, absorbing the taste. His eyes closed as he swallowed. "Ah, a good bottle."

Josephine poured herself a glass and sat on the bed, repeating the same ritual. She groaned. Her back was bothering her. She hoped the alcohol buzz would kick in soon. Even after so long, she was still sore from that night.

They finished their glasses and she poured more into his. She then began to drink from the bottle. "Thank you, Merlot. I do love you." She took another swig.

"If you are drinking straight from the bottle, may I say that it is very vulgar?"

Josephine froze, but lifted the bottle again. "Do you want me to pour some into your mouth? Just say it and I will."

"No I think I will stick with my glass." He drank from it. A drop slid down his chin but he took notice. Josephine did.

"Professor, you have a little…" she moved closer, her hand outstretched, her thumb wiped it from his scraggly shin. She stayed there a moment, staring at him. His eyes were not fixed on her. It was strange still not seeing him see her. But it did have its advantages. She leant closer.

"Professor," she breathed. Her hand flew back to his chin. She touched it, feeling the little hairs that had grown since their arrival. He made no move against her. Her fingers followed up his jaw, trailing up and down. He closed his eyes.

"_Jonathan_," she whispered. Her face was close to his but not close enough. She continued getting closer until a certain someone leapt up on the bed.

"Ugh, Chap!"

The hyena breathed in her face, licking her neck.

"You're not nocturnal. And look, you're hurting the professor. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright." He smiled, but didn't reach to pet the animal.

Josephine slid of the bed. "Here's I'll get him into my room. He just needs telling what to do…I should be getting to be as well. Good night, professor," she held Chap's collar and dragged him to the door. Before she went further, Crane called out.

"You know, once you've put him up, you could come back in. I could use the company."

"Professor, are you trying to cloud my honor?"

"If only for conversation." Josephine's smile shrunk, but she dragged the hyena to her room, locking it, and returned promptly.

"What are we going to do after this is all finished?" She asked.

"That is undecided as of yet. I haven't quite made up my mind on the target, although I hear rumor that the ball at Wayne Manor will be a large one. We may not want to miss out."

Josephine wondered at the thought. The ball? Her father was going to that. No doubt Jack's aritlery would suffice for such an uproar. But if Joker would be there and the Scarecrow, there would be not telling what would happen…

"The ball might not be the ideal location, professor. Not to say I'm arguing with your ideal it's just that…"

"Joker is planning to attack there as well, isn't he?"

She was quiet. He took the silence as a positive. "Mmm…well that provides a difficulty. Doesn't it?"

"Yes." In more than one way. If I was seen, I'd have to stop them both from killing each other. I couldn't bear that. They can't do that. Rogues never get along. Perhaps in an ideal world where everyone was sane and all, but there wasn't. We all suffer from the "normal" people.

"What will you do, once we leave?"

"What?" She wondered. "I'm going to be with you, of course. What else?"

"I thought you would be with your father. The gala's coming up. Like you said in the past, if he saw you with me, it would make him go mad and kill me. And you didn't want that, did you?" There was something sly in the way he said it. It almost hinted that he knew her affection for him, but she wasn't sure.

"Of course I don't want him to kill you! I don't want him to lay a finger on you! Why do you always bring that up? I haven't changed, professor. I'm still the same since two years ago." Not entirely true, but she kept it to herself. "Anyway, I'm tired of talking shop for now. Can't we just talking about nothing in particular, like two normal people?"

She swore he chuckled. "We are not normal people, Josephine."

"I enjoy killing and torturing people. You like to scare them until they die or kill themselves. Normal is purely relative, professor. Just look at my father.

Dr. Crane nodded, but a smile splayed across his lips. Josephine swore that since their arrival, he had been in much better spirits. It must have been the country air because he was acting peculiar. He smiled more and talked about important matters with such ease. He was not as tightly wound as he was back at the apartment. He was…amused with what she said most of the time. They must have been bonding more than she believed.

The two talked for about an hour before the professor felt himself begin to tire. He yawned and pulled the covers over himself, ready for the night. Josephine decided to be adventurous and try something new.

"Professor, do you mind if I stay here tonight? Chap tends to jump during the night. I ay not get the rest I need to work on the toxins."

There was a pause. "Yes, I don't see a problem…."

"I'll just sit in this chair…" She scooted a chair near and tried to make herself comfortable but once the screeching sounded, the professor objected.

"No, no...don't sit there. Your back and neck will be screaming by tomorrow morning. Just…just sit here," he motioned to the place beside him. "The mattress is surprisingly comfortable and you won't have to worry about your pet."

Josephine smiled at him, even if he couldn't see it. She left the chair, undoing her jacket she always wore, and slid into the bed. Luckily, she had brought her pajamas. The professor scooted over to provide her room. It was warm where he was. Toasty. Her body somewhat seized up when she realized that she was sharing the bed with a man she was in love with. She was sharing a bed with someone who wasn't covered in fur. She felt her private walls crumbling around her. She had to remind herself she wanted this. She wanted to open up to the professor. She wanted for him to see her in a new light where she wasn't just an assistant but a woman, even a young one. She sniggled into the mattress, burying her toes in the lower part of the bed.

She tried something else.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder. His body bristled, but he didn't move away. She snuggled closer to him. "I'm cold," she said.

"Yes," he said unsteadily. Still, he did not move away.

She smiled to herself. She felt at peace. His gentle breathing coaxed her into dreams of her own –one where she was completely in serenity…with him.

* * *

><p>Firetongue discovered her that morning, although he wished he had not. He walked in to check on the professor, thinking Josephine was still in bed. She had not come down to the basement. When he reached the master suite, he was mistaken. There she was, head resting on his chest, not doubt subconsciously listening to his heartbeat. His own heart ached. The only comfort he could indulge in was that: she was atop the covers, fully clothed and seemingly innocent in how her body language suggested.<p>

He had seen many a couple in the circus sleep in the same bed after a nightly tryst. Theirs was a much more open, intimate embrace than this was. That was a least a little relief.

He did not know if he should interrupt though. Every fiber in his being said to do it. His own feelings tried to get in the way of his servitude and debt. It was very obvious that she was closer the man than he supposed, and in a more intimate fashion. He didn't like it. It was once thing to assist him, another to sleep in the same bed. He noticed the bottle on the bedside, nearly empty. His heart relaxed a little. Perhaps she had only fallen asleep after that. He didn't know she drank.

Josephine moved. He excused himself from the room, not wanting to interrupt anything, but wanting to all the same. He wanted to act, wanted to tell her everything, how he watched her from afar, served her like a dog, not for any gain but because he saw something in her that he hoped would always be there and still be there when with the professor. If the man crushed her spirit, he wouldn't ask her permission the best time. It would be strictly a matter of the heart.

He spied a flicker below, when he breathed again, a stream of flame about two feet long spewed out. He held his mouth, breathing through his nostrils. No, now was not the time to think such things. He would go and wait. That was all he could do.

Wait.

He noiselessly retreated.


	14. Winter's Warmth

**Greetings! Thanks to you all! Chapter fourteen…we're really getting on with it aren't we? This is a shocking chapter, well, I think so, anyway. Enjoy.**

_Four days later…_

_: One week since arrival_

Josephine's work finally showed for something. Almost half the samples of nitrogen, belladonna, and other supplies had vanished under careful concentrations provided by her chemical mastery. She was quite proud of herself, if she did say so. There could be about three large canister of toxin for it. She was unsure what the toxin could be for. Perhaps it would be for some group of police officers or government investigators snooping too close to business. Vision of screeching men, cowering under her, witnessing the deaths and destruction of everything around her aroused her excitement. She grinned at the prospect.

But, Professor Crane was not quite well enough to leave. His eyesight, having not returned, he would not be much help in the experiments. Yes, she could take the notes and enjoy the sight of writhing patients, but Crane being absent was an upset. Besides, they didn't have a flat to return to. She heard word that the police had confiscated the apartment. Everything in there could be considered lost. They would have to find other lodgings. She was not prepared to beg from other rogues for a place to stay. Perhaps Penguin might have something, but still. Her pride was intact. She didn't want to risk it. This was a nice little cottage, and here they would stay.

Sunlight streamed through the small, split window near the ceiling. It was a lovely orange color, nothing like what the city offered. It would be a nice day. Somehow, she felt at peace in this wood. No one chasing after them all the time, being safe, and feeling it was something she had rarely come across in her eighteen years. A week of solitude was perhaps what she needed.

Feeling accomplished, she headed out the door for walk. It would be nice to get out alone. The gorillas were pounding away at whatever barbaric acts they were doing and she did not feel like cursing them again.

It felt nice to clear her head of those fumes. The morning sun warmed her instantly. She wore only a tank top and jeans this morning. Without her chemical gear, she felt naked, but swooned under the morning's beauty. Ivy was right. Nature was bountiful as well as beautiful. The ground was covered in low heath, but had a tree every few yards. Beech trees mostly. All standing tall overlooking her as she wandered away from the house.

She felt like something was calling her.

Some kind of voice whispered to her through the trees. She looked up. The wind nestled itself overhead and flew through the branches. No one was there. Her hair blew in the breeze. She kept following wherever this was leading her.

Deeper and deeper into the forest, she found a grove. Flowers grew wildly everywhere. Dandelions, violets, poppies, roses...they were everywhere. She was amazed at it. All sorts of flora flocked here. It was a winder none grew near the house.

There was a hush. She leant over the flowers. They swayed lightly. A circle formed around them. Josephine didn't know what to do. The flowers had come to life. Well, they were already alive, but not cognitive. The daisies gathered and began to spell words out. The voice accompanied them.

"_Josephine…"_

It was a woman's voice, but not that…Aunt Ivy's…

"_Josephine…I am leaving…away to somewhere else…"_

"Ivy? How can you be-?"

"_Messages through flowers are one of my accomplishments with the floral world…now; I need to say to you…I'm leaving, forever…Never again…there isn't anything else I want to do…after Batman came, he wrecked my babies and escaped….I was gone but I could feel their agonizing pain as I boarded the ship…"_

The flowers quaked under the emotion –their stems swaying back and forth under her empathic influence.

"_But…it is not without reward….I….acquired….a helper….he will assist me on my journey south…"_

Josephine quirked an eyebrow. "Is it -?"

"…_the boy wonder...perhaps so…the formula has taken toll…were you expecting something far worse from me?"_

"No, I just thought you would give Gotham one final farewell. Unmasking the boy would be fun."

"_Yes, well…I had no interest in it….I wanted to get away from here…"_

There was a pang in Josephine's heart. She felt the presence grow slimmer with every word. Soon, she would be gone. She may already be. A tear slid down her cheek, though she tried to hide it.

"_My darling…farewell…I will miss you…I wish you only happiness and safety….visit me if you can…love, Ivy…"_

"Wait, Ivy! Where are you going? Is it to the Amazon?"

"…_goodbye…."_

Josephine felt her presence drift off. She as alone in the forest once more, wondering where in the world she could fit in now with Ivy gone, and soon –she would be free of her father…

She walked back to the cottage, feeling loneliness take its toll. But she did have the professor…

* * *

><p>That evening, Josephine sat in the living area on the couch, lying there with nothing but her thoughts, a blanket and a fire. She had dismissed the men to go get more wood as they were low. They had grumbled about it being cold outside, but Josephine showed them her knife, and they gladly gave in.<p>

Fire tongue came into the room. His scares barely showed with the fireplace as the only light source. He still wore the rags he came in –he always wore them. She wondered about it momentarily.

"'tongue, if you want, you can change into something else. There are spare clothes in the chests upstairs."

_Will it please you for me to do so?_

Josephine squinted at him. She considered the question. "I don't know what you mean, but it might be nice for you to change clothes once in a while. Might smell better too…"

An uproar crossed his features. The gaze nearly made sound himself_. I do bathe. I do wash my clothes. Pardon me, Madame._

He started to walk upstairs, body rigid. Josephine did not expect such a reaction from him. It was only a suggestion. "Wait, Firetongue!"

He stood on the stairs, and looked back at her, face solemn.

"I'm sorry. Please come back. I didn't mean to say that. I wasn't…thinking. Please come back down here with me."

He lingered on the step for a couple more seconds, and quietly returned to his seat in the chair opposite her. She smiled again. Her gaze went to the fire, flickering away. The flames entranced her, producing her next question. "Firetongue, does fire make you happy?"

His lingering anger gripped the chair arms. His fingernails dug into the plush seating, but he sat there watching her. He beheld the fire.

"Do you talk to it? Back in the alley, when you were playing with it in your hands, it was almost like you were talking to it like it was alive."

_Fire isn't alive. It is a force. But it does not live, or breathe. It requires oxygen to survive, but other than that, nothing. He paused, attentively reaching for more to convey. Sometimes, it can make me happy. Sometimes, not very much. _

"If I may ask, is it because…you…cannot speak?"

He shuffled in his seat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Josephine immediately regretted asking it. He would surely go downstairs and shut the door.

_Yes, it is._ He looked into her eyes. _But you understand me. _

Josephine lowered her gaze. She wasn't expecting that. When she looked back at him, his eyes intensely stared at her. It made the Clown Princess uncomfortable. She rubbed her hands together, trying to distract herself from the stare. He did, somehow, care in a way she never thought any of the henchmen would, or hoped they would. It was very disconcerting. He was hired help, not a… Josephine Quinzel was not any person walking on the street. She was…to her dismay, she still felt the pride of it –The Clown Prince's daughter! She was important. And he…she wanted to leave the room, go upstairs –think about all of this.

In her silence, Firetongue was kneeling at her feet. Josephine shook with shock, itching away from him but he took her hands and held them firm. Her green forcedly looked in his. She struggled but he held her firm.

_Josephine, you have to know. _

"No, don't…I don't want to hear it-"

_The fire does not burn for anyone but you. Ever since you spotted us in the Circus….started training us... I always watched you, always stayed by your side. Ink thought about leaving, but I told him no…_

"He wanted to abandon me? That dirty little slime-"

_No! Don't tell him I said that. I wasn't his fault. It was your father. He didn't want to be tied to him, but I made him stay because of you. I didn't want to leave you._

He settled by her feet, a tear dropping by her foot. Josephine did not know how to react, but he wasn't finished yet.

_I know that you most likely do not feel the same about me. I never have had the courage to tell you what I thought, hoping that it would shock you so much you would understand what I am going to warn you. I have to say it now –especially now. I only wish that Dr. Crane treats you well. I still don't trust him completely. _

She made to object but held her silence.

_I know how you feel about him. I saw you earlier with him, asleep on the bed together. _

Josephine shrunk in the couch a bit. The feeling of someone's eyes roving over her and the professor was a feeling she didn't like. The horror.

_That was why I attacked him before. I thought he was using you and deceived you. The very thought made me furious._

"I already forgave you for that. Stop talking about it." Being reminded of the event was not very suitable for this situation.

_If he does not love you like you love him then he doesn't deserve you!_

Josephine held her heart, because it was beating so loudly. As terribly romantic as this whole interview was, she couldn't help but start breathing heavily under his looks. She gazed at him, for the first time, not wanting to hurt his feelings. She would wound him. A hand went to her forehead, closing her eyes. She sighed, massaging her temples.

"Firetongue, don't make me choose. You won't like it."

_I don't ask for a choice. I'm asking one question. Does he love you like you do him?_

He cared. She knew that –more than any of the other male rogues. Why shouldn't he love her? What was more –why didn't she know for _certain_ the extent of his feelings?

"I don't know."

All of her royal Gotham pride was stripped down by a mere henchmen. This was what happened when you were too close. Her status as a rogue was starting to tip. The momentary pride she felt as Joker's relation diminishing. Firetongue took the liberty to crawl onto the seat beside her. His fingers still massaged her palms. She felt rough calluses she had not thought about before.

_Maybe you should ask him. That is all I want. I don't want you abandoned, or worse, captured because of some type of betrayal. Your father is not always a forgiving man._

That was true. He most certainly was not. But she wouldn't take orders from him no matter how heartfelt it may sound. Jonathan wouldn't give her up. He wouldn't do anything of the kind. She had sacrificed too much.

"Listen to me. I forgave you for what you didn't, but you have to trust me. Stop questioning everything I do. You say you love me, but you don't trust my decisions. Just because my affections may be elsewhere does not give you the right to sit and tell me this. If you want proof, I'll get it. But I won't. My private life only affects you for as long as you want it to. Stop telling me about everything I should be doing and just follow." She turned towards the fire. "Just…stop…"

Firetongue sat back in the couch, slouching over lips pursed. He picked himself up and headed down to the basement. Josephine did not feel any sense of pain in what she said. He made a bargain and he would keep it. Everything was fine.

A henchman stuck his head in the door.

"Having a conversation with yourself, Princess?"

She flipped out her knife.

"Okay, okay…" He backed outside. She overheard the murmurs. _"Got to get more wood, she's being pissy." _She rolled her eyes and leaned her head back.

Everything was going to be fine. But, she couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be.

* * *

><p>The next day –at lunchtime, Josephine brought up her specialty to the professor –chicken noodle and grilled cheese. At least she felt like she could do something creative when she took care of him. Cooking was about it out here. With all the science involved in the toxin, it was nice to get away and have some relief. She had gotten up early and strived for more completion. So far, they had enough to take out a large college classroom –but that wouldn't be enough to sustain for long. If they were going to take out something vast –say a police department –it would have to be larger quantities.<p>

She balanced the tray carefully as she walked up the stairs. The yellow liquid sloshed when she wavered on each step, she blew on it as she went, trying to col it before she got to his bedroom. Luckily, his was closest to the stairwell, and she went into his room without spilling too much. The professor was awake. Sitting upright in his bed. He had taken to sleeping in most mornings since his unfortunate accident. He was not too happy with the situation but with a giant fan blowing and constant doses of Aspirin, he was getting much better. Josephine set the tray on his lap.

"Morning Professor."

"You already saw me."

"I know, and I'm saying it again." She sat on the end on the bed, setting everything up with napkins so he wouldn't spill anything on himself. He usually liked to feed himself anyhow. He could do it since their main food was sandwiches or something simple, but today might be a challenge.

"What is it? It smells delicious."

"Guess."

He closed his unseeing eyes and inhaled deeply, using that chemist nose that could probably detect anything with practice. "Mmm, soup is it? It smells like garlic and broth. A hint of vegetables?"

"You forgot the chicken."

"Ah, so it is chicken noodle then?"

"Yes," she folded a napkin and gave it to him to place on his lap. He did so, reaching for the spoon. She placed his hand on the handle, shivering slightly at the touch and pulling away once the metal touched his finger pad.

He brought the spoon forward, leaning towards it. It would be comical if not for the situation. Her father would laugh, but then he would laugh at almost anything that mocked the professor. He and Nigma were the two that he loved to tease the most, labeling them the nerds of Arkham. At least they were brilliant –Crane the most.

"No lunch for you?" He broke her reverie.

"Oh, yes, I've already eaten, Professor. Thank you."

He nodded, reached the spoon forward and sipping on the liquid. He taste it and said, "very tangy. Very good."

She smiled and thanked him quietly. Firetongue's words were beginning to sink in, though she tried to dissuade herself from letting it happen. She tossed and turned last night, wondering about it. Her subconscious would not let it go. Then, she thought of a sneaky way to find his feelings. Perhaps he would be interested in her dreams…

"Professor?"

"Yes?" He drank more of the soup, absorbing the carrots and chicken. He licked his lips.

"I've been having a dream recently, about a woman. I wonder if you could help me."

"I would be delighted to try, my dear."

There it was again. She shivered. "Yes, well, there is a woman sitting on a fence. It's white picket fence if it makes any difference. There she sits for the longest time but can't get off. I don't know why. On one side is a man, on the other, something blocking her view. It's like, like, a veil. She can't see past it it, though she can hear something vaguely on the other side. Well, the man she sees keeps calling her and calling, at first kindly, then harshly his voice grows more and more aggressive with every word. She shirks from it but does not move. She knows he is getting closer, but cannot do anything. Do you know what that means?"

Dr. Crane sat for a moment, replacing the plate onto the tray. He inhaled deeply. "How long have you been having this dream?"

"Only recently, actually," she said shyly, "I don't know what to do about it. It won't go away."

Her gaze wandered from him, sure that he might understand her meaning. He sat there, puzzled at the concept. She twisted her hands in her lap, unable to hide her distress. "Professor, I'm not quite sure about anything anymore."

"About the dream? It obviously suggests you are in some state of-"

"Forget about the damn dream!" She declared louder than she thought. Her head recoiled in guilt. "I'm sorry professor, but I can't…" She couldn't say it. Why? Damn it! Why? How could she not be brave enough for this?

"Josephine?"

Dream concept aside, she had an idea. It was little, but she may as well try it. She had nothing so far to lose, except him. But she would take that chance.

"Professor, can I try something?"

"What is it?"

"I want to give you some of my gratitude for taking me this far –allowing me to stay with you on this trip…even under the circumstances…."

"It was not a problem I took too long to decide on, Josephine. You may know that I do care for your well-being beyond what may be deemed typical of an employer."

"Honestly?" she whispered.

He stiffened. "Yes."

"I still want to do something…" Josephine didn't know how to go about it, but she climbed closer to him. She was nearly sitting beside him; knees near his side, her breath touched his cheek. She leant forward, mustering her bravery and chastely pressed her lips to his.

At first, she was met with surprise, his body stiffened against hers. But, he relaxed after a couple of seconds. Their breath quickened and he responded, placing pressure against her mouth. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, but Josephine found herself wanting to touch his face, wanting him to wrap his arms around her. Before any of that could happen, she pulled away for breath.

She remained only an inch away from his face, her eyes closed. She leant her forehead against his. "Jonathan…"

His hands raised, he moved the forward in search of her face. She lightly guided them to her cheeks. He found her temples and began to massage them with his thumbs. "Josephine…I-"

"Professor, please don't shatter this for me," she said, eyes till closed.

"Josephine, what does this mean to you?" He asked softly. "Does it mean something more than just gratitude?"

She swallowed. "Yes, it does. Please don't take it away from me. I've risked so much. I don't want to go back."

His hands moved to her cheeks, resting there. Their warmth made her cheeks blush. She felt her breath catch. "You know better than most what I am." His voice went cold. "I've offered others the chance I've offered you," he pulled away, "but they _refused_." He inhaled loudly, a strong wave of emotion overcame him. His voice was mottled with choked sobs.

"Please don't talk about that girl, Professor. Not here. I'm not her." Tears streaked down her face as her eyes pinched shut, trying to stop the flow. She didn't want any mention of Becky Albright tonight. Plucky Becky. Brave Becky. Josephine was braver than her by thousands!

"She despised me, called me a monster. I'm not a monster Josephine. Never ever call me that. I'm not." He was nearly crying now. The heartbreak was stronger than she thought and she was weeping too. She hoped he would stop it, stop referring to the past love. It was breaking her heart to hear him speak about her, even if it wasn't in an affectionate tone.

"You're not a monster. I want to be with you. I choose to be with you, always. I want to be by your side. You treat me so well, unlike anyone else. Professor, please…don't…"

"Josephine_, I love saying your name_," his breath was low and wondrous, as if discovering something for the first time, "ever since Arkham, ever since you came back. I had thought you wanted to repay your debt, but there was something more when you first told me you would be with me. I had always hoped…hoped that you would be…mine."

She started to stroke his face, wiping the tears away. She kissed his forehead tenderly.

"Promise me you won't abandon me. I don't know if I could take that again. Don't tease me."

"I promise I will never let you go as long as I live. Without your say-so, you are mine, Jonathan Crane, until the end of time. You always will be."

Another tear dripped down his face. "My Josephine," he kissed her cheek. Then with a wild grin he shouted, "_My Josephine!" _He pushed her against the sheets, he atop her. She laughed as he covered her cheeks in kisses, occasionally kissing her neck. Then, with his tip, he guided his index finger over her chin and her lips, letting it linger there. She pursed her lips against it. He held her jaw, and lowered his lips to hers. It was much less chaste that time. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him closer.

He lay beside her, nuzzling her tresses. She touched his auburn hair lovingly. "You want to know a secret?" His hand found her thigh and began to massage it lightly. Goosebumps spread over her legs and she brought her legs closer to herself and hugged them, snuggling closer to him.

"Yes, Jonathan?" His breath tickled her neck. She couldn't get enough of his tenderness. This sort of physical touch she had never experienced before, especially from him.

"I love you Josephine Quinzel."


	15. Here's Jackie!

**Hooray, I'm onto the next chapter! Yay! Good for me! And for you guys. Enjoy, my readers. You are the reason I do what I do. **

**(Yeah, I know every writer here tells you that. But hey, it's true.)**

Josephine emerged from the bedroom, having spent the majority of the afternoon there. She didn't do anything inappropriate, only laid there with him, talking about nothing in general, enjoying each other's company in a new light. It was beautiful. For the first time, she saw something in another person –interacted with them in a way she thought wonderful in every way. He loved her. He loved her. She couldn't stop repeating it over and over again.

There were few words –no, there were little words that could describe Josephine's emotions as she walked down the hallways that evening, a smile spread across her face. She hugged herself in the wonder that it could be true. That indeed it was true that the man she was in love with, loved her in return. She felt like jumping into a tree or just running around the house until she collapsed on the grass. She felt like doing nothing and something. It was…so confusing for her, but so welcomed! She loved him! She loved him!

She hung onto the banister when she caught sight of Firetongue at the bottom of the stairs, arms full of branches for the fire. He walked by but caught sight of her and waited down at the bottom. She stood there, blank –but her lips erupted into a smile she could not suppress.

He widened his eyes and quirked a brow. She nodded slowly, still smiling. His look depressed. He turned abruptly away for the fireplace.

Josephine was confused at first but then realized that he lost the bargain. Her face fell. His feelings were stronger than he looked. She watched as he tossed a branch into the burning pit, blowing on it. There was little sadness for him. He didn't trust her. She was in love with Jonathan Crane. He loved her back. The world seemed right.

* * *

><p>The next morning, she rose from bed, eager to see the professor before too long. They had not slept in the same bed together because Josephine was not sure about it. The professor graciously complied. Neither felt pressured by it. She went downstairs and gathered some breakfast, lugging it upstairs for the two of them. She crept into the room. The professor was still fast asleep.<p>

She set the tray down. The gentle _clink_ awakened him, sending him into a fright.

"Who's there? Josephine? Josephine, is that you"

"Yes," she neared him.

"I want you here." He sleepily patted the bed. She complied, crawling over the bed so that she was halfway on top of him.

"Mmmm…" he soundly said, reaching out for her. He caught her face in his hand. "My Josephine," he held her cheek lightly. Josephine lent into his palm, feeling the warm creep over his skin. She breathed him in, knowing that she was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush, but not caring whatsoever. She kissed his palm and crawled to the side nearest the tray and leant her head on his pillow.

"Good morning," she yawned. "Mmm, not quite woken up yet it seems."

"It is now," he said, tilting in her direction. She scooted closer so their lips met briefly. "I never am going to get tired of that."

"Oh really? Why did you wait for so long then?" A glimmer of amusement sparkled behind her eyes, enriching her smile.

He sighed loudly. "Perhaps I took so long because there were certain cases I thought would be against me. Besides, it isn't exactly the line of work you look for romance –especially a forty something lifelong bachelor." He stated it so matter-of-factly that Josephine couldn't help but argue.

"That isn't a reason why that wouldn't happen. You're just not so keen on opening up to the ladies _professor_," she poked his arm. "But you needn't worry about that problem anymore," she dismissed the idea with a flourish. Her legs kicked over the side and brought the tray closer to him. "Now, I have a feast for you: French toast, eggs, bacon, and orange juice. All made by moi." She took a bite out of one of the bacon slices, closing her eyes and crunching on the sweet taste. "Mmm…delicious if I do say so myself." She patted his hand. "Eat up," came with a muffled mouthful.

"Smells delicious. Is this what I'm to expect from now on? Breakfast in bed?"

Josephine gave him a glittering smile. "Until you get back on your feet. Then you'll be cooking me breakfast."

"You may be sorry about that."

"It's chemistry, doctor. You should excel in it. Besides, I'll enjoy a meal in bed for once. All work and no play can take it's toll?"

"Will it be breakfast in bed, Josephine? Are you sure about that?"

"About what?"

"About you living with me? You're…happy with that?"

Josephine swallowed her bacon, eyebrows knit. "Oh course I am. As long as Joker doesn't catch us, it's fine.

"We live in Gotham. It's a difficult place to avoid him."

"Maybe we won't always be in Gotham." The words hung loose in the air.

"Leave Gotham? Why? I still have work ahead of me. Gotham's screams are what I desire, Josephine. You know that. Their terror rises above most pleasures."

"Hopefully not my pleasures." She stopped. "Well that was out before I could stop it." A blush crept over her cheeks. "I didn't mean to say that."

"It's…alright if you talk about that with me…now is the time since we're both…well…"

"I know," she held his hand. "I do love you Jonathan. I want you to know that. Please know that. All I want is for Joker to never find you again. The last time…I'm afraid to think about it being worse."

"You watched it happen. You did find some enjoyment in it."

Her cheeks colored. "I was ten! Maybe younger! I followed everything my father said. I thought it was alright. You _did_ betray him." She cast down her gaze. "But that wasn't an excuse for what he did. Villain team-ups never workout." She sighed heavily, pinching her eyes shut. "That damn chair. I'm afraid to think about it now."

"We're just going to have to make sure he never finds me, then, or you for that matter. What will he do to you?"

"I don't know, but if he manages to find us, it's not going to be pretty. We'll just have to be careful." She lay down beside him again. "Jonathan. If leaving Gotham would keep you safe, would you do it? Even if it meant giving up Scarecrow?"

"I've been beaten, cut, spat on, broken, bruised, and slandered for most of my life. What Joker had in store for me couldn't be worse…but if I knew you saw any of that, it would hurt me more now. Its strange now, Josephine. I feel changed, yet I'm not. I'm still the same person but knowing how you feel makes me think more about my actions. I know I sound like a romantic or something awful like that, but it is true. Love does change things. I used to believe love was a farse."

Josephine snuggled closer to him, placing a hand on his arm and rubbing it softly. "You never experienced it before. You were…hurt a lot when you were younger, right? That's when it started to happen, the fixations, the obsessions, the studying to become who you are. But what if your life was different? What if you had your parents and they loved you and you found someone and married her and lead a normal life. You never would have met me. Do you think about things like that?"

"I never purposely wandered into the depths of my childhood unless in my nightmares. Only you can know this."

"I think about it. What if my father never had his accident? What if my mother never met and fell in love with him. I'd never exist. I owe my existence to madness, I guess."

"There is brightness to Joker's existence." He reached out and touched her hair. "Sometimes when I saw you when you started working for me with the Joker and his henchmen, I would think to myself why she always did what he said and why she didn't run away with me. I thought I was mad, that my old age would drive you off."

"You're not old!"

"I'm 47, dear."

"Well you don't look it."

"You flatter me, my dear."

"I like a man with maturity."

"Of a grandfather clock."

"No!" She smacked him. "Stop saying things like that. You're perfectly fine the way you are."

"I'm not handsome Josephine, don't pretend to deny it. Even if I cannot see you I know that you are making your disagreeable face. I love it because it is completely you. You are very beautiful, Josephine."

Tears formed in her eyes from the softness in his voice. Since the previous day, she had never heard such heartfelt words from a man or from him. She leant down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Jonathan. You're more handsome than any, even if you don't believe it."

She sat up and spied the tray left uneaten. "The food, oh now it's ruined. It's cold."

"I don't care." He felt around for the tray and picked up some bacon. "Bon appetite."

* * *

><p>The trees were aligned in fire and euphoric green when Josephine and Firetongue took a stroll outside that evening. It was near dusk, but the sin still shone over the hills, bleaching the ground white where the most intense heat was. Josephine suggested a walk together to gather her thought about everything. She needed a good ear to listen to her before she told Jonathan anything.<p>

Firetongue trod along beside her almost two yards away. He picked up a branch and began whipping it through the air. Whoosh. Whoosh. He frowned deeply. Chap bounded ahead, enjoying his freedom outside. After being cooped up forever in the city, a week in the woods was doing wonders for the pooch. He ran back and forth, giving kisses to Josephine or Firetongue whenever he came near.

"He likes you, you know," she smiled at him, while Chap ran along beside him, nipping at one of the stitches on his pants. Firetongue pet him on the head.

"Maybe…he can stay with you if I have to leave."

Firetongue knelt down to Chap, allowing him to lick over his face. The cool tongue relaxed the burns from his scars. He scratched Chap's ear harder.

"He'd be pleased with you, I think. He'd make you happy."

Firetongue pressed his forehead to Chaps. The hyena closed his mouth and whined softly. He sat on his hindquarters, enjoying his rub down.

"I love him, but I can't bring him everywhere. You could stay here." She flourished an arm. "It's nice and you won't be bothered. Chap loves it. I think you do too."

The light overhead grew dimmer –now an orange glow over the trees. Josephine laid down, splaying her arms, massaging the grass. She closed her eyes.

"I'm going to miss this place. I'm not very sentimental, definitely not in the past….but I can enjoy things now." She sighed and smiled. "It's not all about the killing and maiming and getting back who needs getting back. Now I can just, leave." She paused, breathing deeply. " But I do love this. Maybe I can go somewhere like it. "

A rustling sounded beside her. She opened her eyes, glancing towards the fire breather who had left Chap and was standing. He started off in the opposite direction.

"'tongue? 'tongue!"

She sat up, launching herself on her feet to catch up to him. He was stomping into the dirt. Chap was growling and biting himself. Such behavior, thought Josephine. What's wrong with that hyena? She caught up to Firetongue in a few long strides, handling him on the shoulder. "Firetongue?"

He shoved her off and kept up. She stepped backward, arms out to balance. Her face morphed to anger. "Firetongue, stop now!"

He whipped around. _You don't command me anymore. You're leaving, remember? Go on, go to your professor. He's all you care about now._

"Stop it! Just because I'm happy now and don't want to go around Gotham protesting that I'm some great model of terror for the citizens anymore, that I'm somehow wronging you? No, I'm sorry that you feel like I'm abandoning you. I'm sorry that what you told me suggests that you may be in love with me, though I don't know why, we've hardly since starting last week. Just….stop thinking about me, or not care. I don't care." She massaged the bridge between her eyes. "Firetongue," she began, still firm, but adopting a softer tone, "I'm entrusting you with Chap. He's my last connection to my father. I love him. Take good care of him. He likes you. He'll be loyal. Stay or don't stay. It's up to you."

Suddenly feeling exhausted, she began trudging back to the house. Chap was not with her. For once, she was glad.

She got up to the white brick home, but was greeted with a new sight. Off in the distance, she spied a can incoming. It was black and spotless. It was down the road a ways, but in any case, it spelled trouble. Looking back, she saw Firetongue emerge from the woods. She motioned him closer. He gave that look of anger toward her, but she shot a similar one back and kept motioning forward. When he came closer, she pointed to the van.

What do we do?

"I don't know who it could be. But chances are they're not here by accident."

The van stopped. The lights went out. A few men got out. Two were darkly colored. Another was very pale and wore worn leather clothing. Josephine froze.

_Jack_.

_What do we do?_

Josephine shook her head, watching the men with a keen curiosity. He was no doubt coming to collect her, or to finish her off. She had an answer for him. He'd be wearing it for the rest of his life.

"I don't know." She peered closer. "Look! They're not armed. I guess they're continuing on foot. What the hell do they want?"

_Trouble. I'm going to get the guns._

She grabbed his arm. "No, don't yet. Of they don't have weapons they must be trying some diplomatic bull shit." She glared hard on the specks in the distance. Jack held up a hand, donning sunglasses and made a peace sign. She shook her head, lips pursed. "Jackass."

_Want me to fry them?_

"Kind, but no. Do all you want if they try something."

The two started across the meadow towards the van as did Jack with the goons. Thoughts again started to swirl around her noggin. Once at peace, again at war. Did the universe ever think that she deserved to be happy, ever? Sure, bad things happened. Sure, she caused bad things to other people. Killing, hurting, maiming…emotional pain…heartache…

Her gait slowed. She rigidly carried herself. She did do a lot of damage to the city. That was a joke, right. It was always a joke. She enjoyed doing all that. Watching people scream was exciting, seeing them all bloody and broken made a gleeful smile across her father's face. She stopped. Firetongue went ahead, but looked back when she did so. Was it what she loved? Her father? What did he have on her now? She liked that stuff, didn't she? It wouldn't matter now, because it's in the past and she was going away, but now the past seemed…incomplete. Did she really enjoy pain form…innocents? Of course of Jack was on the guillotine, nothing would keep her from lowering the blade on his neck, cackling all the way. That was different. People who did wrong were something very different. She shook her head.

Eventually the two parties met at the center of the field. Jack was at the head along with Josephine, smiling like an idiot who just got his reward for an A plus on a science report. But there was something else in his expression. Something in his eyes. Things were not all well.

"Hey Clown Princess. How's it going?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I have connections. You know, there are a lot more people that don't like you than you think."

"I don't care who you know. I want you out. Didn't I say that you were going to be punished if you followed me?" Her lip curled.

"Aw, Josie, why are you so cruel to me?" He reached out and fingered her jaw for a millisecond before she grasped his wrist and pulled it into an awkward angle. "Ah-yah! Stop that hurts!" The men he was with steeped forward, ready for action, but Josephine let go. Jack stretched the wrist and looked back with mock hurt. "Why so angry with me?"

"How does your boss like it that you treat me like this? Shouldn't he be angry at you?"

Jack smiled to himself, his gaze to the throbbing muscle. "The Joker's days are numbered. He's not fit for Gotham anymore. If you haven't noticed, the industry is taking over, meaning the loyalties are slimming on the whole "Gotham rogue" type. Being a baddie isn't what's going to get you power anymore. Its money. And I have plenty of it."

"Yet you can't afford better fashion taste," said Josephine replied in monotone.

"I don't give a shit about that, Princess." She smiled. He grimaced. Turning his head, he started pacing. "The bad part of it all is that Joker knows something's up. I'm losing him. The weapons aren't enough to satisfy and I'm looking at a deep cut."

"That you completely deserve right now. You still don't get it do you? He doesn't care about you, Jack. You've never been safe."

Jack went on. "What I need you to do is to tell your dear old daddy that I'm the better choice over you. That you have no interest in running the business and that a masculine touch is what it needs." He adopted a baby voice. "You think you can do that for me?"

Josephine smiled. Big. "SO, what you're saying is that you need my help to overthrow my father, possibly killing him so that you can achieve a power kick and take over Gotham? What, next you're going to buy out Wayne?" She laughed. "You're a bigger fool than I thought. I'm never going to help you. "

"Oh, but you've already helped me, Josie Girl." He smiled. "Why are you out here all alone? With a sweetheart."

"Firetongue's here for my protection. We're the only ones."

"Liar. Filthy liar who even lies to her own father. You're here with Scarecrow. Eh eh don't even try to deny it." He wagged his finger. "I know it." He tapped his nose. "You've been working for him, haven't you? For the past, oh I don't know, two years maybe? Yeah, I found out. I watched you. They've." He pointed to some men behind. "been watching you. Ever since that fateful night. Remember?"

Josephine took a closer look at the men dressed in all black. They were not clowns, not the Joker's men. They did look familiar. She took a step back. They were. The two who attacked her that night were in the same ensemble. She froze.

"How did you get the Italians on your side? They hate all clowns."

"At first, they were wary, but when they found that my allegiance was less than the natural blonde in your mother's fair, they agreed to work for me. Right boys?"

One approached. He pushed past Jack and stood a couple feet from Josephine. He spit on the ground in front of her, mouth curled into a hateful frown. "You killed the Falcone boy. You dead, Clown Princess." He quirked his lip and pointed his index and pinky on his right hand towards her heart. He stepped backwards, keeping eye contact.

"Well that was fun," said Jack. "Now, I'm going to leave and let that marinate in your little noggin and come back soon. You think about that. Maybe I'll get you pardoned," he looked to the Italians who were staring hard, "then again, maybe not. Tough spot, Josephine, might want to think about all the details. Ciao." He waggled his fingers.

Josephine became bold. "Give me two weeks. I'll have an answer then. But you might not want to wager against it, else you become a stew from the acid tank."

"Alright, two weeks, then you say yay or nay. Yay," he leaned in close, "and we can have some fun together that the professor could never teach you, alright?" He breathed in her scent, making her want to taste her vomit over smelling him. "Well, goodbye, Josephine, I hope that Scarecrow didn't ruin you for me."

Firetongue held her back whilst Jack and his men disappeared to the van and into the night.

**A/N: The sign the Italian makes is a traditional Italian sign for "death to you" or "curse you." You can look it up if you want.**


	16. Flames: Enraged and Tamed

**Okay, so I took forever on this chapter and was behind on my outline. I hope this suffices. Thanks to all who follow me on this ride. I'm getting sick at the moment, so reviews make me feel better. I have a speech on Monday, so wish me luck on that as well (FYI).**

The night wore over with the vroom of the van over the hillside. Josephine trudged back to the cottage, looking much more like a dragon than ever. She shriveled into her mental ball, hugging herself against the world's treatment of her from that ignorant idiot. She couldn't believe him.

"He's lying. That sack of guts, he's lying through his teeth! Joker hasn't promised him anything. He wouldn't. He couldn't. That's not how he operates. They got to the front door. Josephine thrust it open, the door slamming against the wall followed by a semi moment of strained silence before the echo raced through the house like a gunshot.

"That man deserves to die." She grit. "He thinks he knows everything."

"What the hell's going on here?" asked the henchmen who raced from the kitchen, beans dribbling from his chin. "What're you doing?"

"I hate that man." Josephine glared at the henchmen, causing him to quirk a brow and wave a chicken leg at her.

"No one knows what you're talking about! No one ever knows." He turned to Firetongue. "She's mad. That what she is. Crazy like her father-"

Josephine lunged at him, utter hatred and vice coursing through her veins. She caught his throat, clenching the dilated air valve between her index and thumb. A sneer moved across her face as she thumbed it hard. He tried not to swallow, but he did and more air escaped from him. His breathing lessened.

He wheezed. "Let…me…go…please…..I…sorry….."

"I don't think you're very sorry at all."

The man coughed like a whooper. He hacked, back against the wall like a caged animal.

"Watch me do what I do best," she hissed, still not letting the man go. She was about to see the life escape his eyes when a pair of hands delivered the man from his fate. Josephine fell backwards against a chest and was hauled outside, shutting the door in the process. The hands guided her to the front lawn where it was much darker. She kicked and fought but only halfheartedly. She couldn't undo the hold until she was thrown down. The grass stained her knees as they buckled beneath her, causing a crack from her joints. She winced in pain and looked up to see Firetongue hover over her, a glare across his features. She glared back,

"What's the matter with you?" She asked, evilly.

Quick as he threw her, he began pacing like a wild animal. His stride moved quick and animated, harsh with the conforms of his angular body. He wrung his hands, freshly heated with the blood in his veins.

_What is he going to do? What is he planning?_

"Planning? He's planning nothing. It's nothing but a farse to distract us. We just have to be smarter."

He flipped directions, staring her in the face. _If he catches us, he won't let us go. He'll drag us all to Joker. Then, it's over._

"Everyone overdramatizes everything in Gotham. Every situation doesn't lead to Hell. No matter how much it seems that way. We just have to be smarter."

He growled like a dragon and began filling the meadow with flames. A loud roar of the crackling, dying plants screamed out. The flames ate and ate -hungry for vengeance as their master. Josephine stared at them for a moment. She grasped her roots and tugged, splayed her fingers through her hair and raking her fingers through, mashing down the follicles destructively.

"Ergh, stop it now before you roast us all in this Hell!"

He stopped breathing and watched as the flame ate more and more of the meadow. Soon, it might be baked to high heaven and the earth would be anew, ready for the spring.

"I'm not going to let him win. I'm not. Even if he only thinks that this amount of time is over, it isn't it's only just begun." Her voice lowered in intensity. She stared down the road where the van was. Her eyes lit in emerald. Her breathing was rapid. He's going down. Let him get comfortable. Let him think that everything's okay, that the water is just room temperature. It'll boil at the precise moment." She turned to Firetongue. "I'll be there to drive the blade."

She hurled her knife into the earth. _Cling_.

* * *

><p>A Week Later….<p>

Josephine slept in that morning. She had spent time on the chemistry many more hours than what she had before and was glad to have some rest. Sleep was very welcome in her eyes. There were changes around the woods. The goons were not being quite so idiotic and managed to not kill themselves around the basement when she ordered them to haul the finished formula to the barn outside. She was actually impressed. Not as dumb as they look.

Firetongue was warmed up to the idea of her and the Professor as a couple. He didn't glare at them anymore. The professor could now come downstairs with her, but most of the time he stayed upstairs. She converted the spare room into an office for him, so that he could get out of his room and do something else for a change. The hyperthermia was so much better. His breathing was softer and he was stronger. He didn't need the intrusive rusted fan in his room anymore. When she felt his forehead, it wasn't temperature of the sun. It was 98.8. He was almost as good as new.

The eyesight was a problem.

He was beginning to see, but was frustrated that he still couldn't do anything about it but wait. It was irritating for him, not being able to do anything about it. But, he had Josephine. She would help guide him to his office, where he could feel the sun on his face and enjoy the fresh air form a better standpoint. He could make it on his own, but he enjoyed her company and being with her. She enjoyed him as well. Love changed things. It was different, but good.

Josephine woke up, snuggled in her bed. Her morning greeting was a licking by Chap. He whined for her to play but she resisted. His ears were soft like velvet and she loved to sit and pet him, though he would not sit for long.

Tossing her legs over the side, she went out and into the office. There was the professor, sitting there in a chair in front of an open window. The morning air was full of flowers –sweet and welcoming. The sun threaded through the air in golden dust. Jonathan sat with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He rocked back and forth.

Josephine approached, sneaking up and slid a hand down his arm. He exhaled loudly. She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Good morning."

"'Morning." He rocked gently.

She knelt by his side. "How are you feeling?"

"Good today. Though I can't say too much about my view of the world around me, but I can hope that it will come back soon."

"Mmm…I know it will. It was nice to sleep in. Good idea."

"You're welcome. You deserve it."

"You know…Christmas is in about a week. What do you want to do about it?"

"Stay inside, Try not to think about it too much."

"Ugh," She slapped him playfully. "No, we are not going to do that. Just because that's how you spent your last Christmas."

"No, I didn't. You came to visit me."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. It was delightful. You and I worked whilst we drank far too much and feel asleep."

"Then I woke up with a blanket on me. Oh that was you! Even then you couldn't help but be chivalrous!" She kissed him on the cheek. "See, you do have good points. Pining away for me like you did. It was sweet of you. Painful, probably, but sweet."

"You pined for me, so don't you talk."

She shook her head. "I know, I know. Let's get back to the topic at hand. Christmas. Yes or no."

"Yes to what?"

"Oh I don't know, holiday cheer, presents..." She shrugged her shoulders, hands raising simultaneously behind his neck. "Mistletoe…" her lips found his. Her forehead rested against him.

"Hm…tempting. Christmas never was a fuss to me. I didn't bother."

"But you can bother now because I'm here, and I can make your dreams come true." She grinned.

"So ironic, dear, but maybe we should think about other matters."

"Such as?"

"Your friend?"

"My…oh I see….Firetongue."

"I assume he still hasn't come to terms with anything yet."

"Well no," she narrowed her eyes to the corner, "as usual."

"Give him some time. But if he doesn't want to join, he doesn't have to. He can stay."

"That's what I told him, but he doesn't care about it. He likes to mope. Even if he apparently loves me…"

The words were out before she could do anything. "Loves you? Since when?"

"Since…hmm forever, I guess. He only told me a few days ago." Upon seeing the sorrowful gaze wash over his face, "oh now come on. You know I love you. He's my partner, not my lover. I told him to leave me. It's best he stay here."

"He'd better. I'll make him."

She giggled. "I'm liking you jealous. It suits you."

"Ha ha, very funny." He kissed her cheek. "Now, what about the holidays?"

* * *

><p>The next morning, Professor Crane rolled out of bed. The wooden floors were more familiar to him than any apartment or hideout he had ever occupied. He could live her forever. The rough unpolished floors sanded away the skin on his feet, imprinting their marks. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the banister. The rug below was rough, but he noticed something different. There was a light there. A spot on the mystifying design. He reached for it. A ray shone from the window, he looked up, wincing. It became more intense as he neared the glass. The morning light greeted him with such affection it was almost religious. The pane was alit in the most vibrant scene he had ever seen.<p>

He paused. _Seen_.

Trees. Grass. Frost on the ground.

He rubbed his lids and looked again. It was the same. His jaw lowered slightly.

The professor could see again!

* * *

><p>Downstairs that same morning, it was quiet. Chemicals were left untouched. Some bubbled questionably in their vats, beckoning their mistress to return to them. But, it was to no avail for their case. She was asleep –strewn on the sofa – brain punctured by fumes and equations. Finally, she collapsed under exhaustion.<p>

Jonathan warily made his way downstairs to find something to eat. His eyes adjusted to the new light. It tinged a bit, but it was welcome. Sensitivity was not going to make him wish for the darkness again. If only Josephine could see. When he spied her on the couch, all curled in her slumber, he couldn't wake her. Abandoning his stomach's wishes, he made his way to her side. Her chest rose and fell delicately with every breath. A tinge of pink colored her cheeks. She must have been into some Merlot left.

He smiled to himself. Watching her was far more enjoyable than the irritations of dealing with henchmen and attempting to find the bat's fear. The bat. The man had eluded him for years. Always, always a separation…a veil to be metaphorical. Never was it easy to catch a bat. Quitting was not the ideal. He was no quitter. His work demanded the absolute dedication from him. But, he looked over Josephine, the light snoring was faint captured his attention in a way nothing had before. He watched her longer. In a while, he noticed that he had been staring at her for nearly five whole minutes without reprieve.

Women. He used to scoff at them. Their feminine wiles used to charm men. Poison Ivy used them. Catwoman abused them. All he knew were perpetrators of his sex. He was constantly at odds and in anger with them.

All except Josephine.

He heard a noise. Turning, he saw Firetongue in the corner. His amber eyes were alit in something. Though, the professor of psychology had an idea what it was.

"You don't like me very much do you?" he asked.

Of course, he got no answer. At least, one that he could read. The professor exhaled through his nose. "Why is it that you don't like me so much? Am I some sort of threat to you? Because I'm a Gotham Rogue, is it? Yes, that's probably it."

Firetongue's eyes flickered to Josephine and to him in a millisecond. Dr. Crane tongued his cheek. "If you think I'm going to give her up, you're wrong."

Firetongue's gaze hardened, his scars becoming more prominent. S nostrils flared. He stepped forward. It was then Jonathan noticed the glint of something in his right hand. "What are you going to do?" he asked blandly.

The fire breather stepped closer, brows together. Jonathan thought quickly and plopped down beside Josephine on the floor. He situated himself between her and he coffee table. He angled so that he had a clear view of her face. His knees rose. Arms wrapped around them. Thumbs twiddled.

"You know, Josephine Quinzel is perhaps the only woman I have ever loved," he began. Firetongue's expression didn't change but the blade went down a little. "She was always there for me. In my beginning I had no one. It was solitary. In my school days, I was unaided. In college, as a professor, a director, the same.

"My life was hard in my younger years. It was something I am both glad and ashamed of. For one, it made me the intellectual I am. I studied. I poured over my books until after college. Even then, I planned and learned all I could to test my theories. In another, I was left without a shred of social skills. I could have gone farther if someone had been by my side, or had spoken to my in any friendly way, but that was impossible. Of course, I was given talks. About my work. 'It was dangerous. The students were afraid.' Good. That was the point. That was all the point. You see," he paused, "There was a great deal about me that the doctors didn't understand. So, I made them understand in my own way." He glared at the boy. "I don't have to tell you how I did that."

He glanced to his sleeping love. Eyes softened, mouth relaxed. "But _her_…She was different in every facet.

"I was alone before. Everything was different. I thought the world revolved around the toxins. It was easy to get so absorbed. But when she came, it all changed. Since our first meeting, there has always been something different about her than the others. She…cares about me. Honestly, without any type of plan, use or exploitation. This trip made me realize something."

He felt her face, her hair. "I love her more than anything. If staying with her means I will give up my work….then so be it. I won't live without her." He stroked her hair lovingly. Lips pressed again her hair. Inhaled scent.

Firetongue replaced his blade into his pants. Closed eyes. Head turned away. Ashamed.

* * *

><p>Later that day, Josephine ate on the sofa, legs curled beneath her. Chap lay loyally at her feet. She tossed some food to him every once in a while. Firetongue came in. Josephine eyed him. He had been gone most of the afternoon. She had not seen the professor either. Was there trouble afoot?<p>

"Where have you been all day?" she asked in good humor.

_Out. With Dr. Crane._

Josephine sat straight in surprise. Really? Had he? Jonathan's coming home would be the first step of proof in that. If he didn't, then someone would have to answer for a couple things…

"What were you doing by _yourselves_?"

_He showed me the different herbs growing around here whilst you slept._

"Oh, well that sounds innocent enough." She turned back toward the fire but the fire breather cleared his throat. She turned. "Hm?"

_He has a surprise for you later._

"Oh? Really?" She was happy now. I wonder what he –wait, you said he _showed _you herbs?"

Firetongue nodded. Josephine couldn't suppress the grin on her face.

"Have you worked things out with the professor?"

Firetongue's eyes glinted. _Yes_.

"Not more talk about him not being "worthy" of me?"

_Never_.

"Perfect."

**The poll is still open on my page if any of you guys want to plug in an answer. **

**A "whooper" is what I call someone with a whooping cough. It sounds like death.**


	17. Paradise Lost

**Greetings! The reason being that I am days late with this is that I have not been feeling well and have been busy. I gave blood on Sunday, so now I have a bruised arm. That's my excuse. I'm helping injured people guys….just helping out some patients….don't burn me at the stake. **

**On the plus side, I did get to see the NA tour of **_**Spamalot**_** going on at the moment. I met some of the cast too, and they're lovely. That was my cheering up part of the weekend.**

**Reviews make me happy and work my booty off. It's almost at the close guys!**

Gunshots whistled through the air. Josephine leapt out of bed instantly, motivated by the crashing waves of warfare surrounded her oasis in the outskirts. It was as she feared. The cheat didn't give her a chance. He wasn't going to wait. Jack would have the last laugh. It was up to her to make it that that didn't happen.

Luckily as she crossed the stairway, Firetongue, Dr. Crane, and the henchmen were already awake and dressed. The two lesser men stood ready with their weapons strapped to themselves.

"I'm ready to go. Anytime, man, anytime."

"You're going to have to wait while we all get ready. We don't know how many are out there." Josephine hurried all around trying to find anything that resembled a weapon. Her knife was strapped to her side as always.

Guns were needed. Guns were always needed. Most likely, the henchmen would be taking care of that, but she would need about two to fight off any of the Italians that probably showed up with her sickly rival. The professor might need one as well.

"Professor, the toxin?"

"Already, getting it," he spoke as he hurried down to the basement. He returned quickly with the canisters. "There are three completely full. That should be enough to take most out to make an escape."

"But, will there be enough for –?"

"-We're not going to the gala. We're not doing anything with Gotham anymore. Once we escape, we get out and never come back. It's the best. If our friend is tasking how I think he is, it is best that we never look back."

Josephine couldn't believe her ears, but knew he was right. She had suggested it in the first place, but now everything was falling into place so hurriedly. No final goodbyes. Here it was. In her face. The great escape of Josephine Quinzel was under way and there was a battle to be fought.

"Great, well, let's get on with it, people. Jack's got a load outside and we've got to unravel it fast."

She spied out the window. Lights flashed outside. Vans pulled in the distance. A truck with floodlight overhead lead the way. It illuminated the house, making escape an impossibility. She gritted her teeth. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

"We have no choice but to fight them. They're all around."

Jonathan was strapped into his Scarecrow persona. The canisters she filled were attached to his belt. Maybe smoking them out with fear gas might do the trick. At least it would be some kind of defense they could use.

"Professor, when they get close enough, toss one of the canisters in front of the vehicles. When they're out, they won't stand a chance. At least that can slow some of them down."

Professor Crane unlatched one canister and gripped it in his palm. The window gave a clear shot of the landscape and incoming attackers. A good throw would get it where it needed to be. He raised his arm, poising for the hurl. The vans pulled up just far enough….they were getting out….taking forever doing it….but they were making their way towards the house….

The Scarecrow broke the window and launched the canisters like a grenade. The canister flew high, unnoticed before landing unceremoniously in the dirt. The men didn't take notice of it. A couple stood near it with weary expressions. Josephine couldn't tell what dialogue was shared but one idiot kicked it, setting it off. Yellow gas spewed from the side, engulfing the front vans in a mustard cloud. Those near it began coughing terribly before wheezing and shrinking to the ground.

Many screamed. What, she didn't understand. But, it was obviously their deepest fears. Their body went into shock. Writhing and seizing were not uncommon effects of the toxin. Josephine couldn't suppress a grin as she watched the men rolling on the dirt in shame. That was what s=they got when they messed with the Scarecrow.

"When do we head out?"

"Not until that gas clears a bit. We don' want to get caught in it. There's a breeze."

"Won't we need to get going soon? If that friend of yours catches us-"

"For God's sake, he's not any friend of mine. He's come to give all of us trouble and if we leave now, we'll be in the cross fire and none of us will get back alive."

Then there was something, something off in the distance. A clicking noise, muffed calls were outside, waiting to be heard. The devil was ringing. Someone had to answer.

A megaphone clicked on below. From the cracked glass, Josephine heard a distinct troublesome voice clear itself over the meadow.

"Hey, Clown Princess, or should I just call you Josephine? That's all you're going to be after tonight, you little bitch. You've ruined my night and now I'm collecting my dues. You can't run. You can't hide. I know you're all cozy in that house with the professor. What's he doing? Screwing you?"

Josephine balled her fists. She was not a coward. If not for the gas, she would go down there. Sure, she was immune, but the crossfire about to occur would kill her. She wasn't Superman.

"Yeah, um, you're going to get your ass out of that house, or my boys here are going to drag you out. You got that?"

"Bastard," she hissed. Firetongue came close and leant near her as if to hear an answer that would save them all from a horrible fate. "Don't know what exactly what's going to happen, but even if there is a horrible crossfire and we all get blown to bits, we're not going out as his little bitches."

Firetongue suppressed a grin. He is too far out of his league.

"We can't hide anymore," she spoke more to herself than to him. She turned from the window and went for the door, hand resisting the handle. The men clicked their guns, ready for an assault at any moment. They nodded their heads like the macho men they tried to pull off. Scarecrow stared at her, concerned. We went up to him, peeling off his mask and kissed him. She melted into the embrace, arms firmly holding him near. He wasn't leaving her, not tonight, not ever. She was his and he was hers.

This wasn't going to be easy.

In her back pocket, she fingered a key unknown to the rest. She slipped from the grasp and rushed out the door, locking it swiftly as she could. There was commotion from the other side, but from all the external roar of the screams, the protestations went unheard. It was easier this way. She paused only once, but continued on to Jack and the mounds of henchmen waiting for her. Feet rushed into the clearing where the gas was. Men gyrated –spiraled out of control –became the madmen they feared the most. Finding that megaphone was her big concern.

There were more men than she thought, courtesy of the Italian armada hauled up in the docks. Thieves the lot. Jack was to blame in all this, hunting her, making her life miserable. And a living hell. Why couldn't she find him?

Some of the men clever enough to bring gas masks faced off against her. The sweet smell of napalm was heavy. She fished out the knife and whirled it into several of their livers, hearts, and any major artery she could strike. Blood splattered across the night, the heath over the wheat and golden locks of hay on the forestation.

Faint screams erupted over the henchmen. They were so familiar but felt so far away.

_Firetongue?_

Flames were all over the place. They surrounded her but she didn't fear them. It was a sign. At least one was okay.

_Jonathan?_

She might have heard his screams or laughter or both. He must be around her somewhere. Were they safe? Would he forgive her for what she did? She prayed –yes prayed –for something to tell her, but she didn't have the time to listen.

Life met death in a whirlwind of her hate and disgust for everything and anyone willing to face off against her. She was at her end with the battle and wanted nothing more than for it to end with her as the victor and Jack's head at the end of a spoke as she hurled it at her father's feel, proclaiming herself as the rightful heir. It was her place. Her place…her place!

She struck harder and harder. One by one they fell. She was in a blind fury and there was no stopping her. The madness had taken her. It had enveloped her mind to the point of bloodshed. It was a pattern; knife, flesh, metal, skin…more and more. She couldn't realize the sudden change in crowd control as they began to retreat. Why, she didn't know, but still fought her way, implementing more kicks and punches than she ever thought she would use in a single battle.

When she had dipped the thin metal into the last nearest henchmen, the last of them abandoned her and drove away. As the gas cleared, she realized.

The house had been ransacked. It was destroyed. Half was in a blaze; the other was in a illumination of smoke and wood falling to pieces. She stumbled as she watching the last parts fall down. The chimney once so tall and strong looking now a smoldering pile of soot and ash. She watched it in horror. The door was broken. The windows shattered. The walls beat down. What else? They could have gotten away. There were too many. Jack must have taken them too. She thought she heard….but they must be gone. Engulfed in its inhabitant's flames. What a way to die.

Nothing has quite looked so hopeless than had it in that moment. But eventually it got much worse.

She heard the purring overhead. _Chop, chop, chop, chop…._

Police at last. At long last.


	18. Death on Arkham Row

**Hello. Arkham is a scary place kids. Do not write about it at night. That's my advice. Thanks to those who review as well as those who read and enjoy. You are very lovely people. We're nearing the finish line guys. I can't believe it! Three months of writing and it's almost over! Crazy! **

There was a nothingness present.

Josephine slunk against the cold hard concrete. Eyes closed. Mouth crooked. Fingers shrunk into bent digits from the elements. She shivered –frozen in illness.

The clear wall of observation stared wickedly at her. Her second self mocked her when she raised her gaze to peer at the broken creature before her.

Dirt. Slashes. Bruises. Her body was covered. So, the arrest had not been clean. The capture was as her nightmare. Taken in the night. Alone. Very alone. How long? Minutes? Hours? Days? Was her sleep eternal? Was it all a dream? Still a dream? She moved closer to her captor's portal. Her abdomen dragged across the floor. Her clothes were the ones she wore before. Fabric ripped. Tenderness of flesh realized. Concrete.

Hair tossed. Fingers touched the mirror. Haunted green eyes stared back. She inhaled deeply. Why had it come to this? Why did it have to?

Her hand fell to her cheek, deforming it; eye grew larger, as it slid down. The blued eye grew larger, then back to place.

"Why am I here? What brought me to my cage again?" She hissed to herself.

Mad as Hamlet.

The door squealed open. Her eyes shot to the entrance. The heavy roar of neurotransmitters clicked inside her head. She froze. Footfalls clicked against the tile and entered a nurse. She was young, holding a clipboard against her chest, eyes fixed on the paper clipped to the device.

"Josephine Quinzel, Patient number 40127," she said.

Josephine debated if it was a question or a statement. Either way, she did not speak.

The nurse continued. "Your appointment is this morning. You will be escorted by the guards to the doctor's office. Do you understand?"

At first, Josephine said nothing. What was there to say? Yes, no…yes was the primary answer. No did nothing else. It was all trite. Answers were of the nihilistic quality. Perhaps, a different approach to the good doctors. An empathetic twist followed by…fear. Questions were the answer.

The voice she could manage. A child. "What will he do to me?"

The nurse kept to her clipboard. "You're going for an appointment. I have nothing further to add –no notices."

"Re-eally?" She asked. "Is Dr. Strange mad at me?"

_Is he mad?_

"I'm sure you're going to be fine. It's a check-up appointment."

"I'm scared. I think he'll yell at me. I didn't want any of this to happen." She placed her hands to her face, forcing some tears out. No need to drown. She kept going, adding a little sob. It kept up until she felt arms around her. A shush went through her ear, soft and weak. Perfect.

"What happened to the rest of them?" He head lay against the nurse's shoulder.

"What are you-?"

"The people I was with? Are they here?"

"I don't know .You were the only one to come here." She played her fingers over her head. Josephine found the effect calming but she could not afford to allow it now.

"I don't want to go. Please don't make me." Be careful not to apologize. They can see it. I don't want to go. He will punish me. He scares me."

The nurse patted her back. "Don't be afraid of him. He's going to help you. I know you're a good girl. Tell you what; I'll walk you down myself. I'll tell the guards to leave. Will you feel better then?"

She sniffled. "Yeah, I think so. I'm tired. My head hurts." Don't talk too much.

She raised a hand to her temple and winced.

"Lean on me," the nurse took her arm, unlocked the door and went out.

* * *

><p>Josephine stumbled down the hall, leaning on the nurse as kindly as possible –playing the traditional frightened patient. The nurse indeed must have been new, or at least not as bright as the tenured nurses used to be. Her hands squeezed the arm with a unique ferociousness. Fingers dug into the arm, but were careful not to claw like an animal. She was still a human. Not good to give the wrong impression. It was trickery, not animalistic.<p>

The hallway was gloomy –floors sloshed in unknown slime, ungrateful to the barefoot maniac. Asbestos rotted the ceilings, chipping in the corners, raining down on uncovered heads –mistaken for dandruff. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling that grime stick to her skin like a coat –an initiation.

_Where is Jonathan? _

The question burned without answer. The couple turned a corner for the elevator.

_Ding. Ding._ More waiting for the lower levels.

Dr. Strange's office was past the great drawing room and on the back of the offices. Without a doubt, he would be waiting with a contempt that could not be harnessed. This might be the moment when she was to be killed by accident. Being greeted with a knife might do him some good.

Ding. Ding. The elevator landed on the floor. The nurse and Josephine hurried toward the great hall. It was a magnificent room –more so before the hospitalization. It was a library, a sitting room, and covered in ancient rugs, now decrepit from the overuse and "wear and tear." It was a shame. The windows gathered in sunlight in many colors, dim but still beautiful. Josephine admired the display. Only when doing so, she spied Dr. Leeland.

Leeland was touring the room with her notes. A couple walked behind her clad in furs and well-to-do clothing. Patrons, no doubt. The building itself had become a starving patient. Only instead of medical treatment, it needed a sufficient amount of funds to make its dilapidated look healed. The woman sneered at the ornaments as they walked past. Upon recognizing Josephine arm in arm with her nurse, they stopped and stared at her.

Leeland continued on, but looked back and saw that her accompaniment had ceased. She backtracked and met Josephine's gaze. The eighteen-year old regarded them with a black expression, and then burst into a grin. Their eyes widened and they huddled closer to Leeland, the man's arm protective around the woman.

Leeland watched as Josephine carried on, but was cautious. Josephine kept her gaze on the doctor, a wild expression forming. She jut her head toward the offices, an eyebrow quirked. Leeland would know. She was intelligent. Not like these other idiots. She knew.

Dr. Strange's office encroached. Josephine could read the name plate. Now or never, it was. After the years, the treatment, the bashings, taunting, bullying….he would pay. She would not tarry long before it was Hugo Strange going towards the guillotine tonight. The nurse released her.

"Now, there's no sense in messing this up. You're going to be fine. Just fine. Dr. Strange is a good man. He isn't going to hurt you." Lies. It was all lies. She probably knew what Strange did in these meetings, yet she did gather the courage to escort the Clown Princess of Crime on her lonesome. That was admirable. Now, she just had to leave the young lady with her business.

"Thank you, ma'am. You didn't have to do this."

Indeed, you did not.

"I know, but…you seemed so upset."

"Well," she sniffed for effect. "I think I'm better now. I can do it. Can you promise me one thing?"

"If I can."

"Can you not let the guards stand right in front of the door? They scare me when I'm in there. They stare straight at me and it makes me upset. Can you do that for me?"

"Eh," the nurse nervously, "I will…see what I can do."

Josephine sprang forward, clasping the nurse's hands in her own. She widened her eyes affectionately. "Thank you," she said with fervent intensity. "Thank you so much. You're very nice, you know that. A real sweetheart."

"Well, thank you," the woman blushed a little.

Josephine released her and gathered herself together. "Dr. Strange, here I come."

* * *

><p>The office was just as she remembered: reeking in the blood of criminals –insane and sane together in one awful truth.<p>

"Good morning, Josephine, and how are you feeling today?"

She did not bother sitting down. "Brilliant as always."

"What were you talking about with the nurse before?"

"Nothing. Being civil, as always."

"You are never civil with me. Why is that, Josephine?"

She observed the question with great power. "Because I don't approve of you."

Her answer was welcomed with a bark of laughter. "Oh, little Josephine, you are a little out of your reach. Approval from you is never what I seek, nor anyone of your kind."

He stood up. The clasps on his white doctor's coat gleaned in the lamplight. His arms folded behind his back. "You know," he began in his thick German accent, "there is much we should discuss, you and I."

Josephine stood near the chair. She gripped it for balance. Perhaps it would turn into a weapon in T-minus ten seconds.

He began walking around his desk. A visible lump was under his chest, a shadowed object lay awake. Josephine knew and expected its power soon. She had to be ready.

"You are the one who is said to be the heir to the Clown Prince."

"If you want an answer, I 'd say that's correct."

"What makes me wonder is that if you are to –let us say, hm, perish under unspeakable circumstances, how would it affect the lord and lady of crime, yes? Would they weep for you? Cry for you? I know your mother must be sad at your defeat, but your father, he is a different specimen. Answer me this, can he love?"

Josephine did not know herself. She imagined the Joker loved her, but that could easily be a fairytale. She was a worthy heir, at least she knew that. Jack was about, but it was she who was blood. If only she could find where they put Jonathan and she could escape. In all her hopes, she wished Jonathan was at Arkham: place of insanity and decay. She wondered if, no, that would be too horrible. What he was with Jack and that's what happened to him? That would change things dramatically…that would…no…she didn't think she could bear it…not for…

"Have I lost you, Josephine? Are you "away" as most of your kind usually is? We have treatments for that you know."

She forgot the initial question. "Thanks for your concern professor, but I'm not exactly here on a greeting for you."

"Oh? Don't involve yourself in being clever. It doesn't suit you. Now, answer my question: do you think your father loves you?"

She did not know. Honestly, she thought he might at some points, but then again, the point was moot. He did love himself more than anyone else. She had accessed this earlier in her teens. It was something you must ascertain in order to survive under him. But, there must be a love somewhere in there to make her live. Her life must mean something.

"If I said yes, what would that signify, doctor? That you have triumphed in pointing out that my parent's love is diminishing at its very core and I am nothing but a servant to the chaos that would destroy your very existence? Is that what this has come to?"

"Is it a yes, clown?"

"No, I think he does love me. Thank you for asking."

"On the contrary, Josephine," he turned his back to her, "I think your answer might have been so much better on my behalf than you imagined."

"What do you-"

_…..._

"Dear God!"

It had started. Her ears bled under that wretched sound. The whistle's pierce shrieked into her eardrum like a thousand pinpricks dancing. She fell to her knees, clutching the lobes.

He stopped. "You should have foreseen your fate, clown. If you had answered yes, perhaps your fate could have been avoided, but since you have proven to be faithful to your father, you doom yourself. This way, I can crush him with your death. Do you see what you have done to yourself? It will be a mass most worthy of my triumphant discoveries. One less patient in this dying world. At last, I can begin to breed a new hope for Gotham. One where the sludge of this hospital is at last extinguished."

Josephine rolled on the floor, still clutching her ears. But, there was something else there that the doctor had not foreseen himself.

He bent towards her. "Do you feel the pitch penetrate into you mind?"

He blew it. She winced painfully. "Can you feel the blood rushing into your brain, panicked?"

He blew again. Are you feeling the need to claim yourself for silence?"

He blew. "Now?"

He blew. "Death is just around the corner, Josephine."

He took out an instrument and tossed it to her. She writhed on the floor, shaking. The familiar glimmer caught her sight. She reached for it. Her knife, at last. She had in between her fingers. Her loyal companion was back in its rightful place.

"Use it, Josephine. Use it and all can be well for the both of us. Do you need another reminder?" He raised the whistle to his lips once more.

"No! No…" she slide across the floor on her stomach, knife in hand. "I've had enough. I'm…through…."

"Very well, complete what you must."

"I must complete what I must." Her eyes stared achingly at the blade.

_Thump…thump…_

"You must do what you must."

"Quickly."

"Yes, and soon."

_Thump…thump…_

"Yes, and I must do this for my own good." The blade glimmered under the light, welcoming her for the act that must be completed.

_Thump, thump…thump…_

It beckoned blood. Blood. Flesh. Blood. Pain. Silence.

"For God's sake, do it now!"

"Ahh!" Josephine lunged forward. The blade stuck.

Dr. Strange backed away. He clutched the blade in his chest. His hand brought away blood. His blood. He stared at it and back at Josephine. "H-how? You…can't have…."

Josephine stood abrasively, a wild animal kept too long in its cage. She smiled at him, a nice big grin. She pointed to her ears. When he did not understand, gasping as he did, she reached in and pulled away two blobs of paper she stuffed into the canals.

"Don't play games with a clown."

He choked. Blood spurted from his mouth and tricked onto his bleach white apron. The stains grew more and more. He stumbled backwards, trying to buzz in the guards but he fell onto the Persian rug.

"That is…impossible…I had you under my ….control…"

Josephine leaned in closer and hissed, "_You don't control me anymore!"_

She yanked the whistle from around his neck and pocketed it. "Never again."

Dr. Strange died with a few more moments and Josephine Quinzel was free of the monster that haunted her Arkham life.

* * *

><p>Josephine found herself in the old drawing room again before she exited the place forever. But, there was a complication.<p>

She was not alone.

Dr. Leeland happened to be walking by. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Josephine's figure: without chaperone. She looked as though she would backtrack at any moment but Josephine's pleading expression stopped her.

"Please, Dr. Leeland, don't," she honestly could not think of anything original other than what he true plans were. The truth was her only shot this time. "Please don't report me. Don't say anything. I swear this is my last time here. I don't want to come back."

Dr. Leeland kept staring at her, whether out of pity or fear, Josephine was unsure but was decisive on fear.

"Look, Doctor, I don't want to go back, ever. I'm sorry for I did, but it had to be done."

"What did you do?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"….Dr. Strange…."

"Perhaps, but you…can't make me go back. It's just a cycle. I want to go away, maybe forever. If only I can have the chance…."

A sudden expression came over Leeland's face. It was a mix of pleasure and hesitancy. "Do you think that is what you want? Forever? Answer me truthfully Josephine. I've had many a patient announce the same as you and end up in a far worse place than where they began."

"I swear to you, doctor, that's what I want. I'm finished with my father. I'm leaving. I don't know where, but I don't think I would tell you anyway."

Leeland considered it for a moment, then nodded. "I know it sounds quick to say, but I've always thought there was something redeeming about you. You're not like your parents.

_Keep that in mind later._

"Speaking of leaving. Id Professor Crane here? He would only be here when I came. Is he in lockdown?"

"No…Dr. Crane did not come in with you. We haven't seen him in months."

Josephine slouched. "Oh no…"

"Josephine?"

"It's worse than I thought…" she whispered to herself.

"Is there something I can help you with? What's going on?"

"Something terrible is going to happen."

"Can I do something?"

"Can you get me the first transportation off the island? It's best I leave secretly to avoid any commotion. Maybe there's still a chance."

Leeland nodded. "The provision ferry is coming in. I can get you onto it."

"Perfect."

Leeland made a strange face, then, steeping forward, touched Josephine's shoulder lightly. "Good Luck, Josephine. I hope you find what you're looking for." Her eyebrow rose knowingly.

For once, Josephine smiled without a hint of blood.


	19. Facing Herod

**So, as you can tell by the day, I decided to make a two part post and get all of it done in a day. I wanted this chapter to be the best it could, so I took a little extra time with it. I hope you enjoy. Review, my lovelies! I love your opinions!**

With Leeland's help, Josephine crossed the hop, skip and jump to the mainland. The evening light bathed her face as she leaned up, inhaling the salty evening. It was the last. It was the final.

She would face him –at long last.

He would pay it. He would.

She fled to the docks, past the familiar trails, the rooftops, the gleaming shingles underfoot as she flew the way. She stabbed her hopes into Joker's playhouse. The resource capped all reasoning and was the only flash of light in the dark. She could end this. It could happen. It could actually happen.

There was a tower, a clock tower, with gargoyles on the edges. Josephine landed on one, scoping out what her plan might be for escape –who would be there, what devices she could use against the son of a bitch. Was Firetongue going to be there? Was Jonathan going to be incapacitated? It all flooded in and out in currents.

"Mistress?" Asked a voice from above. At first, Josephine foolishly thought God was speaking to her, but why would the creator of man address her like a superior? It did seem rather stupid. She craned her head up and to the side, at first seeing no one, but then found herself gazing upon her other man.

"Ink, what brings you here?" she said in a not entirely kind tone. Her face found the way of her path again, discounting the second henchman who never came back. "I thought Batman caught you." She inspected her nails.

"He didn't. I managed…an escape. But, it didn't last for long. I kept running. I used every resource in Gotham to keep hidden…for you, mistress." His voice cracked at the pauses.

"Well, its good that you managed to keep yourself away from the lines of battle. Tell me, what have you done otherwise? Not taken up with another rogue have you, betrayed me to the enemy? Or worse, become an informant for the police?"

"No! No, I wouldn't….do something like that. I haven't even the time. It's just…I had a lot of time to think."

"I don't think I'm going to like hearing this."

"I've thought that I might, leave Gotham, what with this war going on all the time and-"

"And now you've decided to tell me once I've been back?" Josephine forced him to look at her. He was scared of that knife. Scared of finding some blood running down his chest where it would be stuck like a bare bodkin. "Interesting…"

"I don't mean for it to look like I'm giving up on you, I'm not. It's just I…I don't know how to…"

Suddenly, Josephine erupting into a fit of giggles. She was supposed to keep quiet but what the hell? She laughed and laughed. The longevity stretched and terrified the man worse than before. When she had finished, she lay on her back across the gargoyle, arms fixed about her head, staring up at him.

"Can't say I blame you. I was about to do the same."

"What? You were leaving? But you didn't even tell me-"

"-I don't have to tell you anything, you little ingrate." Her voice went sharp, but it settled back into its neutral pose. "Gotham isn't what it used to be."

"Mistress, where is Firetongue? Did he go with you? Is he in Blackgate?"

"No," she darkened, "he's in a far worse place, I imagine. I'm going to get him out. I don't suppose you're going to help me, are you?"

"I would, but I have a person I need to look after. It's about a different matter…"

"I see. You've got a girl haven't you?"

Ink nodded, unable to hide it.

"That's a problem but I suppose I'll have to continue doing this on my own. My own personal crusade."

"What exactly is that? The Joker?"

Josephine tapped her nose. "Now Ink, what would be the fun in telling all the secrets?"

* * *

><p>The playhouse was not as she remembered: broken, like a dollhouse one doesn't play with anymore, and unimaginative. The once spray painted brick outside, announcing Joker's territory –was now washed away with the snow and rain. In the coming storm, it would all be gone.<p>

Josephine planned her disguise perfectly. Billy McKean had not shown his face in a while. He would be better than Josephine. She creaked open the door. It might not have been the sharpest idea going in as a known person, but it would mask her for the possible turncoats within. She shut the door.

Immediately, the changes had taken their charge of the vicinity. It smelled rank; shouts heard from all around, preferably towards the back of the hideout. Josephine rubbed the grime over her cheek more. She approached the back door –past the conveyor belts still holding supplies. This was where the warehouse was. Where all the delicious torments lay awake.

Presently, laughter barked from its entrance. Other voices accompanied it, making it stretch on. A scream accompanied.

Josephine pushed the door aside and walked out onto the balcony. The metal bar was icy under her hands. Her eyes flickered between the several men at the bottom of the look-out. There were two flanks of henchmen –both in circus garb. They were the source of the raucous –jumping up and down with some bloodthirsty cries, high fiving each other –even spilling the beer cans in hand. Their target for amusement was Jack at the center.

Josephine's pupils dilated at the sight of him. He was wearing purple and green –her father's trademark. A smirk crossed his face as he held up a knife for all to see. Her farsight was not as good as hoped, but she could make out the weapon as a knife. It bore a resemblance to her own.

"Boys! This is the knife of Josephine Quinzel, daughter of our beloved Joker who had taken it upon herself to leave us in our time of need!" He paused for booing from the drunken assholes.

"Yes! She left and now she is in Arkham Asylum!"

The cheers were overwhelming. Josephine peered closer to the crowd and noticed that there were some who refused to take part in the jeers and laughter. A couple crossed their arms and frowned on the occasion. Jack was wrong. At least there was some loyalty here.

"Yes, that is what you get for betraying the Clown Prince of Crime, gentlemen! A cell in Arkham!"

More cheers and boozing.

"Yes, but there was a reason for her imminent dissatisfaction with the life her father so lovingly gave to her." Some men ooed. Jack smirked. "A man." The men laughed more, cackling as they did. "Yes, but not an ordinary man, no, our Josephine could not be tempted by just a thug off the street. She was tempted by one of our own. Gotham's own –Dr. Jonathan Crane –The Scarecrow!"

There was a short silence before the crippled form of the doctor was slung into the arena to which the turncoats began to slander and spit on him. He was dressed in his Scarecrow uniform –but it was much different. The cloth had been torn into rags, fraying rapidly with each movement he was forced to make. He slouched on his knees and stared up at his tormentor.

"How does it feel, old man, to be cast down so suddenly all because someone in this room is a pedophile? Yes, this is the man whose affections were stolen by the Princess –no longer so –and now kneels before us as a humble servant to me. Isn't that right, Professor?"

Dr. Crane fixed his jaw. "I am no servant."

"Oh, I forgot. He is the _God of Terror! The Lord of Despair!_ Ha ha! You're nothing but a stupid prick, _professor_!" He kicked the professor in the stomach, causing him to fall over in pain. He slid across the floor, hugging the hurt muscle.

"But, ladies and gentlemen, that's not all we have for you tonight!"

The crowd celebrated.

"Now, Josephine couldn't complete her plot by herself. She needed help –help from the _inside_." He paused again for the effect. "I have here today, the boy who helped her. The man who lost his heart to her in the process. I reintroduce to you, Fireass!"

Then, Firetongue was slung into the center beside the professor. His clothing had not been altered but had been spray-painted with green joker grins and fire marks. He fell to his knees before Jack.

Jack, leaning close, whispered "It's too late for forgiveness."

Firetongue looked up at him with such a gaze of hatred that Jack immediately backed away with a changed expression. Firetongue kept eye contact as Jack moved away.

"And now!" It went quiet again. "I make the introduction that may not need it but will get it all the same. Gentlemen, loyal henches, clowns and men, I give you, the Joker!"

From the back cargo entrance, the door raised and revealed her father dressed like any day, striding so confident and sparked with the enthusiasm of his workers. But something was different. His expression did not hold the enthusiasm of his fellow cohort. There was a smile, no doubt there always was, but there was something else Josephine wondered about. His eyes were cast down as he walked and only when he stood next to Jack did he look up to the flanks of henchmen cheering his name. Was it regret? Did her father wish she never did what she did?

Then, he cracked one of his famous grins and barked a Joker laugh that would rival any he ever showed Batman.

"Jack ol boy you really showed me some spunk back there!" He slapped his back as a father would a son, but the hand stayed too long and Joker looked away as he said it. He turned his head back as if to wait for something to appear.

"Yes sir, and now that I've showed what I can do, I believe there was something you wanted to say?"

Josephine glared at him from above. No one told Joker what to do, even if it was to remind him of something.

Joker considered the statement but looked up at the balcony where Josephine stood. His eyes wandered but clicked back to her. He would recognize her. After all, he was in on the whole Billy disguise in the beginning. He raised an eyebrow.

"Jack, I think we have an old friend here." He gestured to her. Jack followed his point. "There's a man worth giving a look over, Old Billy. Always someone to filter out the liar and cretins that can sometimes get caught up in the mix."

Josephine held her breath but shook it off. "Ya talking 'bout me, sir?"

"Who else is worth ten of you, Billy boy?"

"Thanks boss."

"Get down here and introduce yourself to the new man."

Josephine walked down the flight of iron stairs to the bottom and crossed the center arena towards the two men. She made a small bow to the Joker but simply stared at Jack.

"Jack, this is Billy McKean," he slapped her back. Josephine couldn't help but feel a strong satisfaction from the touch. "He is my best man."

"Shucks boss, I'm speechless."

She was suddenly glad she had rubbed the grime in more. The dirt covered her pale face.

Jack moved closer to her, staring deeply into her gaze. Then, he laughed, harder than ever. Even Joker was a little put off by the abruptness of it. Jack wiped a tear and made for Josephine, tearing off her cap and holding her by the hair.

"You see?" He yanked her forward. "Even the clown prince can pull one over our eyes. Look who it is, boys! None of other than the bitch herself!"

Brown hair fell before her eyes, revealing her ponytail as it swung to the side. Her body was tossed forward, but Josephine held her ground, refusing to stumble before Jack and her father –the two men she had most quarrel with. Her eyes met Jonathan's –his were a mix of gladness and worry. She wanted to reach out to him, but felt it would just create more chaos. Firetongue nodded to her. She turned toward Jack, who was looking quite pleased with himself, but there was another expression there altogether.

"Ah yes, Josephine, how good it is that you could join us. Or rather, I should say, it really isn't."

"You bastard! You sent me to Arkham!"

"No, I think you did a good job getting there yourself. Isn't the police happy to put away your kind? Did Strange not do his job very well?"

"So it was you who paid him to try to kill me? That's your bad luck. He's dead."

Jack widened his eyes. "That's impossible." His eyes shifted to the Clown Prince. It might not have been the best idea to mention that particular in front of him.

Josephine looked to her father, who was surprisingly quiet. Her eyes pleaded with him. Why was he not saying anything? It was not like him at all to not put in his oar. _Say something, father…._

Jack turned to Joker. His eyes were quite changed as he ran a hand through his navy hawk. _"What are you playing at?"_ He whispered harshly. Josephine could only hear from her distance. She doubted that the henchman could.

"_Why protect her? I'm your heir now! I'm the one in charge!"_

"You're not the one in charge until I say it!" Joker slammed Jack to the ground. He landed with a crack. His head sliced the floor, but it was not enough to put him under. He slid slightly and when he halted, and held up a dizzy finger at the Clown Prince.

"You liar! You never expected to make me the next prince!"

"I did, but I can change my mind if I want. It's a free country." Joker shrugged.

"You choose blood over worthiness. Yeah, I see how this was going!"

There was some murmuring amongst the men. They had either frozen with their beer cans or abandoned them altogether –too interested in the present event. They whispered their ideas and plans like conniving rats.

"Shut up all of you, ya losers! You know I pay you!" The noise quieted but did not stop. Joker pulled a gun from his pocket. "The next idiot who talks while I'm talking is going to get a bullet through the brain!"

The noise ceased.

Joker held the gun away but did not part with it. He exchanged glances with Josephine, who did not know what to do with this. Would he stick up for her, yell at her, kill her –forgive her? She felt like kneeling but did not.

"Come here, Josie Girl," said Joker. He held out a hand to her. She stepped forward, eager to get over with whatever had to be gotten over with –death or otherwise. "Josie, you disobeyed me, did you realize that?"

Josephine held strong and nodded, lips pursed.

Joker grabbed her mouth. As she struggled, he pursed her lips together painfully whilst frowning deeply. "Do you understand that? _Speak to me when I ask you_."

"Ye….essss…."

Joker let her go. "Now, in light of this evening's plans and sudden changes –" he looked to Jack "-things should be going to plan, otherwise. But, Josie here is going to lead us in song."

"What?"

"Josie here's going to answer a question and here it is. Did you betray me, little Josie. Sweet, sweet Josie?"

"I don't know what you mean." She knew very well what he meant but owning up to it and living was another thing. Then again, once he clarified to everyone, she would announce her intentions to leave –forever. No one could stop her then. She could fight the lot of them.

"_Did you leave me for the ratty, crazy, old Scarecrow?"_

"Ah that….yes, I did."

The henchmen began to murmur again, but a quick gesture from their boss silenced them.

"You mean to say that after all I did for you, raising you, teaching the ways of killing and entertaining Gotham, letting you into my own private plans…." He leaned in closer, "_and poisoning your mother_….and you decide that all of that _isn't good enough for you?"_

"Not that. I want to leave the life altogether, father. Just let me do that."

"Never."

He grabbed Josephine by the arm and hoisted her in front of the crowd. "See Josephine Quinzel, my once daughter and heir, she is a traitor and will never again be around to betray anyone ever again!"

The crowd cheered throwing cans all over and opening new ones to spill all over each other. The air was rank with alcohol. A lone call was sounded.

"No!" It was Jonathan. He was restrained immediately.

Joker tossed his daughter behind him, who was caught by two guards. They held tight to her, not allowing any type of movement.

"Let the events go on!"

Some of the masked henchmen came out in their executioner-circus melded costumes. They held a chair in hand. Joker removed his trademark purple coat and left it with one of the sober henchmen. He took the chair.

"Hold him still. I want this to hurt."

The guards went for Jonathan. Firetongue tried to intervene but was pushed down and held against the floor. "You're next, dummy," one growled into his ear.

"No! Please, Daddy, don't!"

The guards seized him as he struggled. Joker raised the chair, hungrily. "This is for taking away my daughter." _Smash_. The seat of it caught his back. Jonathan slumped under the pain. "This is for ruining my chances of having a blood heir. _Smash_. The hit went into the side. Crane tried to hold his side, but was held in such a vice grip that it was near impossible just to slump under the next move. "And this is for just being you!" That one went toward the neck.

Josephine lunged towards her father. "Please, no! No more. That's enough!"

Joker didn't stop but raised the chair higher. "Who wants to see the Scarecrow's blood strewn across this floor like a giant Picasso drawing?"

The men danced in anticipation to the beat of the chair contacted various parts of the Scarecrow's body.

Josephine slumped against her jailor. "Please stop," she said pathetically. "It is enough."

"It _is_ enough," a deep voice echoed through the ceiling.

_Praise God_, thought Josephine.

She felt only she heard it over the slow motion hooting and down. But soon, the figure made him known.

He leapt from the shadows and like the animal he resembled, swooped down and attacked his prey. First, he went for the Joker; the clown was shoved across the room until his cranium met with the cinderblock wall. His skull didn't crack, but there would be sufficient injury to keep him out. Next, the henchmen began to pile onto him. One by one they tried their luck with Gotham's famed Dark Knight only to join their boss in a pile of failure.

In the commotion, Firetongue's holder had abandoned him, leaving him to crawl towards Josephine and "blow away" her own guard. As the unfortunate lay writhing, Firetongue embraced Josephine –if only for a moment. She was glad for it.

When all the men were defeated, Batman approached them.

"Batman, there's something you should –"

But out of the corner of her eye, she saw the forgotten figure of Jack, standing lazily in the corner with a gun pointed. Her eye widened, and before she had time to react, a gunshot was fired.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stood there; waiting for some sign of affliction….but it never came for her. She placed a hand to her stomach and worker its way around her abdomen –all happening in a matter of milliseconds –but there was nothing.

She looked down –everything was so slow. To her horror, one _had_ been wounded.

"No," she whispered, trying to hide the pain she felt as it washed over her. "No, please, no." She knelt down. Firetongue lay there, still breathing, but very hoarse. "No, Firetongue, no, why did you do it? Why did you go and have to do it?"

Jack was still standing over there with a gun in his hands. "Damn, I missed." But it was short lived with a Batarang tossed at his hand and at his head: disarm and knock-out.

He looked up at her. A few tears grazed his cheeks. One of them belonged to her. She held him strongly, unable to let go. She looked up at Batman. "Please, help him." Josephine ran a hand over his abdomen, ad found a hole in his chest, right near his heart. Her hand came back soaked in blood. "No, we can stop the bleeding. He can stop the bleeding. We can do something, just don't-"

_There is nothing he can do. There is nothing anyone can do now._

Josephine let her tears fall. "Firetongue, I'm sorry. Please, don't die. I'm sorry for everything I've said to you. I wish I could take it back."

_Just when we were on solid ground again._

He smiled. A bit of blood trickled down his chin.

_I have to go now. I can feel it._

"No, no, no…" She brushed a bit of blonde hair off his forehead.

_It feels like going to sleep. It does not hurt anymore. None of it. I hope that your future will be better. Please don't cry. I did it because I love you. He loves you too. He can take care of you._

He breathed in deeply. His pulse lowered. His eyes closed. His parched mouth swallowed nothing.

_Goodbye_.

Firetongue the Fire breather was dead.

Josephine pinched her eyes closed. Another tear tricked down and landed on his scarred cheek. She sniffled loudly. Jonathan came up and enclosed her in his arms. She pressed her face to his chest. "Jonathan. Jonathan, he's gone. He's gone."

"Shh, I know." He pat her on the back.

Batman stood off to the side.

"Josephine, what is going on. Give me answers."

The Clown Princess dried up and turned to the Dark Knight. She was fully willing to answer his question, but a sudden thought occurred. It embraced her like a starving hunger for something long interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Dark Knight, but you'll have to excuse me for one moment," she announced in a horrific airy tone.

She put space between her and Jonathan, facing Jack, who was getting up from his last dispatch with some gadgetry. Now was the moment. The time for the vengeance she deserved.

"Jack, you've been nothing but a nuisance in my life since the moment I laid eyes on you."

"Now, let's not get all dramatic…"

"Shut up, you bastard! I don't care what you have to say –not now, not ever. You deserve to die a slow and painful death."

"Josephine, this isn't the way," stated Batman.

Josephine glanced at him for a moment before returning to Jack. "This isn't your battle, Bats."

"It is for as long as I'm concerned."

"But I don't believe I need your help."

"You're getting it whether you like it or not. You're not well, Josephine. You need to go back to Arkham."

"For what? So I can go back and have my brain screwed over while this ass gets away? Never. Now is my chance. Not one officer is going to rob of my chance."

"Vengeance is never the answer."

"Yes, sometimes it is."

"The police will take care of him."

"Yeah, the cops will take care of me, Josie. Don't you worry," chided the weasel.

The former Clown Princess walked toward Batman, eyes fixed intensely upon him. She stopped barely a foot away. Her head cocked to one side. "Do you know what it is to want something beyond yourself? To get away from the life you've always lead and to just…live, for once?"

Batman looked down at her, eyes cold.

"Whether you like it or not. Jack is going to Hell!"

She held something behind her back that the Dark Knight did not catch, but it did smack him upside the head and lead him to unconsciousness.

Then, she whistled.

Nothing happened at first. As always, the night is darkest before the dawn. The silent echo of the whistle crawled over the people in the room. Gooseflesh broke out over Josephine. The anticipation mounted. Then, a rustling of feet pawed at the doors. There was a series of whining and scratching. There was a…laughing….

The double doors burst open to reveal a pack of hyenas charging their way. There must have been twenty of them, all scrambling for a bite to eat. Josephine knew her father. They were starved. Foam spewed over the gums as they fumbled for a prey. They completely disregarded Batman. They went for the one on the ground.

Jack screamed when he saw them coming. He crab legged away from them as best he could; wide eyes of terror afflicted him. No matter what he would do, his fate was sealed. His spotted demons were upon him.

The canines swarmed onto him, ripping him apart –his limbs were eaten away against his cries. Arms first, then legs, and his chest. One went for his face, mauling it until unrecognizable. He was dead within a few minutes of the torture.

Josephine smiled to herself, a great big grin.

"That was for Firetongue," she hissed.

* * *

><p>Batman woke up the chorus of sirens outside. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head. What had she hit him with? A rubber chicken with a brick in it? Wouldn't have been the first.<p>

It hit him. He spun around as he got to his feet. Joker? Joker was still unconsciousness where he was left. The boy? He looked in the corner and looked away once he saw. There was nothing left of the clown boy. It was a puddle of mushy meat and blood. Josephine's guard was still there, the wound still noticeable through his hand-me-down clothing. He felt great pity for him. He probably had no family left. He witnessed the great emotion that afflicted Josephine. At least there was one who cared.

And Josephine? There was no sign of her, or the Professor. They were long gone. Perhaps he could pick up a trail. It might be too late. They must have gone a little over an hour ago. There still might be time. Gordon could take care of this and see to the Joker.

Batman started for his car when Oracle beeped in.

_Batman? _

"Oracle. I took care of the Joker. Josephine is gone. She and Professor Crane have escaped."

_Never mind that. I found Robin._

Thank God.

"Where?"

_You're not going to believe this, but in Colombia. He was found at a seaport there. _

"Was he unmasked?"

_No, he's fine, but the chemicals Ivy used on him took a number on him. He's going to be a handful when he gets back –if he gets back._

Batman stood there with a finger still on the communication button. A rock and a hard place, eh? Welcome to his life.

"Oracle, give me the coordinates to Damian. I'll see to him now."


	20. Last supper

**The last installment to the story! Guys, this is so bittersweet! Thank you all for reading this and being so interested in what I write. You mean so much to me! I especially want to thank everyone who reviewed and corresponded with me. You guys are really stand-up people. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

**Without further ado, here is the final chapter. Enjoy.**

A week past….

_Dear Mom, _

_I heard you were getting better, so I decided to write. It is a strange time for me and I might not get another chance to say it right so here it is. I'm so sorry for what I did to you. Truly, I am so sorry. I wish I never did it. I feel so much guilt for all the pain I caused you. I never once thought about how all of this would affect you, but I was glad I spared you in the end when Dad was forced to take matters into his hands. I don't blame you for hating me if you do. I only want to say that I'm leaving Gotham. I don't know for how long or where to exactly, but I'm not alone. Professor Crane is with me. I know you liked him. He will be with me always, and protect me. I love him, Mom. I love him more than ever. He is good to me and I wish that you will see that soon. It's not only him I love, it's you. I love you and wish that I could have been a better success as a daughter. I tried, but I couldn't be something I wouldn't be happy with for the rest of my life. I need some space. Please, give my regards to Dad, even if he doesn't want word from me. I am not a traitor. Take care of Chap for me. I'm sure he'll want plenty of attention. I want to be home with you soon. Maybe one day we can meet again. _

_Your loving daughter,_

_Josie_

Josephine and Jonathan stood on the deck of their ocean liner for the better part of an hour. Jonathan's arms were around her –soothing her stress away. He bent his head forward and kissed her neck tenderly. Josephine was glad of the pressure against her. Since the event, Jonathan had miraculously made it through to a somewhat recovered state, provided he remain bandaged for some weeks. She did not care for the wrappings, so long as he was safe.

"You sent the letter?"

"Yes," she cuddled closer to him when a breeze blew over her. She closed her eyes.

The past few days had been blurry and crazy. Jonathan had sold the majority of his toxin at the black market for a hefty price. It was larger than either of the two could have imagined –enough to live for years to come. IF they needed more, they could make it. With the secret guarded, it was all they needed to insure than all their wants be met.

"I hope that she's okay."

"I do as well. I always liked your mother." He pressed his cheek to hers. She could hear the thumping of his heartbeat in his temples. It soothed her.

"What's next? South America is a large place. Colombia is only the start."

"Yes, it is. There's no telling where we could end up."

"Ivy wrote to me. Apparently she might be happy for some human companionship and help with her campaign in the Amazon."

"Is that so?" Jonathan brushed a kiss to her cheek. "Ivy might have to wait."

"Why is that?"

"We have relaxing to do. A lifetime of work has left me aching for some free time. No other way to spend it than in a nice hotel next to you."

"Sun bathing?"

"That might be all I can manage." He winced at the sudden pangs.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. You're here, aren't you?" He sat on a spare chair nursing his back. Josephine turned and stood next to him, massaging his hand.

"Yes. The past is behind us. I've eaten my last supper. Who knows about the future?"

Josephine was suddenly pulled onto Jonathan's lap. He placed his hands on her shoulders. Her green eyes met his blues. "There is only one thing I'm sure of: I love you, Josephine. Always be mine."

Josephine smiled a softer, loving smile. "You never have to ask that." She kissed him softly. "You never have to ask it."

The two remained embraced until the sun faded into the horizon. For now, Gotham was a dream far away and the two awoke into another life and another day.

**For any readers curious about my next project, I just want to let you guys know that I'll be taking March to start working on a Arkham City Fanfiction. It should be posted starting in April. If any of you are interested, you can subscribe to me on Author Alert or if you already are, just wait until you get the Email for the post. Thanks you guys!**


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